Knots
by rEpose
Summary: The story of five intertwined couples just trying their best to make love work. Contains Creek, Style, Cran, Cryde, Bendy, and a little Bunny.
1. Glass Forest

**A/N:** Welcome to Knots! This is going to be a story of about 50,000 words, most likely more, because I'm writing it for NaNoWriMo. A new chapter of around 5,000 words should be posted every Sunday (as long as I don't forget). All chapters will be edited now before posting, but I'm only human, so if you see any mistakes I missed then please tell me! I hope you'll like this story as much as I liked writing it. Okay, I'll shut up now so you can read. Please enjoy!

* * *

Blood spots and blots the ground, taking the forms of footprints. A thin blond boy's breath clouds about his mouth as he sprints frantically, a pair of hazelnut eyes clawing the landscape. The stars above blink down at him, watching the small figure as he scars himself on the blades of glass underneath his toes. He looks around and sees nothing other than glass, glass, glass. Glass trees. Glass hills. Glass moon. All glass. The ferns cut and tore at the skin of his feet, leaving splashes of ruby behind him, but he didn't care. He was busy. He was looking. However, the transparent landscape made it confusing as to what and where he was looking at, making him run in circles. He can hear the soft singing of a lone piano, calling out to him from what seemed like nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Confusion and worry knit his eyebrows together, creasing his forehead.

Tweek Tweak opened his eyes, watching his alarm clock ring. He sat up, covers pooling about his hips, and rubbed away the sleep. After a few seconds of staring blankly at the walls, he slapped the top of the alarm, silencing it. The golden haired boy slipped out of his bed and began to ready himself for school, packing large, unwieldy textbooks and torn spiral notebooks into his bag and pulling on a shirt and jeans. Tweek made his way downstairs, dropping his pack next to a dining chair and stepping into the bathroom. He gazed at his pale skin in the mirror and ruffled his hair, trying to make it look like anything but its usual sloppy mess. It didn't take him very long to give up, instead making his way into the kitchen and quickly brewing some coffee and pouring it into his thermos, making sure to put in an extra large amount. After slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stuffed his feet into a pair of shoes and stepped out of the house.

It was cold, but hell, it was always cold in South Park. If you didn't feel like pulling four coats on, shoving your hands into your pocket, and there wasn't at least three feet of snow on the ground, then there was something wrong. And sure enough, snow was falling steadily to the frozen ground, the sky a dismal gray. Just a usual day in the quiet mountain town.

"Tweek! Hey, Tweekers!"

Tweek spun to see two other blond haired boys running his way, grinning ear to ear. He gave a shaky smile as they made their way over to him.  
"Hi, C-Clyde, Butters."

The two boys stood there, panting, before leaping at Tweek, wrapping their arms tightly around him. Tweek let out a weak screech, nearly toppling to the ground by the weight of his friends. Clyde and Butters laughed at his display.

"Good mornin', Tweekers. How are you?" Clyde asked, re-adjusting his brunette hair.

"F-fine. Pretty calm."

"Seems like it. Why, you're hardly tremblin' at all! And you haven't made one of your silly lil' noises." Butters responded, reaching up to try to fix Tweek's knotted hair.

"I-I haven't had much of my coffee yet."

Tweek's one fix was a steamy, dark, bitter on the tongue, burning on the throat drink; coffee. Every day he poured the scalding mix into his thermos all the way to the brim, careful to make just the right amount and not to leave a drop in the coffee maker. He was pretty sure so much caffeine was the source of his uncontrollable twitching, but his parents always said it was ADD. Tweek had learned never to trust his parents though; they were spacey and unreliable. Just like everyone else's parents in South Park.

The three continued on, careful not to slip on the icy sidewalks. Thankfully, South Park High School stood only a handful of blocks from Tweek's house. While the other boys started up a passionate conversation over last night's horrible calculus work, the Tweek stared forward. He awoke from his thoughts only when Butters placed his hand on the twitchy boy's shoulder.

"Tweek, are you alright? You've been acting funny." Concern was etched across his face. Tweek nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Ah... yeah. Yeah, let's just g-get to school," he responded, bowing his head and picking up their pace.

It wasn't long before they reached the large building, where the bus had just pulled up and opened its doors. Parked cars were scattered through the parking lot haphazardly, some stretched across two spaces, some pulled up onto curbs... some barely situated in a parking spot at all. The three were careful while crossing the cracked, shoddy parking lot, keeping an eye out for reckless teen drivers. Thick ice and snow glazed the concrete, making even the best driver slip out of control at times. Besides, the Colorado high schoolers weren't exactly the best drivers in the first place.

Butters and Clyde shed their coats when they stepped through the large, glass and metal doors, thankful for the warmth inside the building.  
"W-well, I gotta get to my locker, fellas."

"That's alright, blondie. I need to stop by mine too."

Tweek waved to his friends and said, "See you guys in c-class." He turned and started in the opposite direction, opening the lid of his thermos and taking and swift gulp. The bitter, black drink helped warm him up as he swallowed it. As he walked, he kept his eyes to the floor until he reached his locker, trying his best to avoid anyone's eyes. His characteristically shaky hands made it difficult to get the numbers quite right on the dial, making him have to restart numerous times. He was on his seventh try when a hand slammed flat on his locker and an arm snaked around his waist, clutching him tightly there. The fingers began tickling him, making the thin blond boy laugh and shriek and wriggle quickly out of the grip. Tweek spun on his heel and backed into the cold metal behind him to get a good look at Kenny McCormick. The dirty blond haired boy laughed heartily, placing one hand to his stomach and the other to his forehead, tears of bliss forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, god. It's funnier every time no matter how many times I do it."

Kenny McCormick was possibly one of the most handsome boys that lived in the frozen town, but at the same time he was easily the most unfortunate. He almost never talked about himself, so Tweek didn't know that much about him, but from what he saw his father and mother weren't exactly the most supportive parents. No, they were alcoholics, and bad ones at that. When you saw a McCormick car, it was never steady on the road unless Kenny was driving. Tweek was pretty sure Mrs. and Mr. McCormick did drugs as well, he was sure he saw the two of them smoking behind a Shakey's Pizza once or twice before. And Tweek was also pretty sure that those bruises all over Kenny's body weren't just from football practice. But no matter how messed up Kenny's life may be, he never talked about it. He only listened to other people's problems. The blue eyed boy was practically South Park High's best counselor, and the only one the kids bothered to go to.

"Jesus, dude! Don't scare me like that!" Tweek tried his very best to seem angry, but didn't exactly make it very convincing.

"Want me to try?" Kenny gestured toward the locker, giving Tweek a sympathetic look. He knew his locker combination was one of the more difficult things Tweek had to do, and often unlocked the locker for the fidgety coffee lover. Tweek nodded enthusiastically, stepping aside for the handsome male. Kenny stepped up to the locker and began working away at the dial, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

"Aha!" he shouted in triumph when the lock stuck on the last number. He swung it open and looked inside, thought displayed on his face.  
"Let's see... You need... Calculus and Geography books, right?" Kenny pulled the two large, heavy textbooks out of the cramped metal rectangle and placed them gingerly into Tweek's arms.

"NGH- Thank you, Kenny!"

"No problem, kiddo." Kenny said, taking out his old, beaten up cellphone to check the time. "Now what do you say to us getting to class? The bell's gonna ring soon." He flashed one of his famous smiles and placed a hand on the small of Tweek's back, escorting him to their class.

As they made their way down the hall, Tweek felt eyes from all directions focused on the two of them. Of course, it wasn't really a surprise to him. Whenever he was with the popular honey haired lady killer in public everyone nearby would stare at Kenny and the people he was with. They didn't even try to be inconspicuous about it either, they just flat out gaped at him. Kenny seemed to be used to it, but Tweek sure wasn't. He did his best to ignore the unwanted attention by gluing his eyes to the glassy tile floors beneath his feet.

By the time they reached their room, Tweek's face was beet red from all the indirect attention.

"Dude, are you feeling okay? Your face is all red... Do you have a fever?" Kenny placed the back of his hand against Tweek's warm forehead, testing to see if he felt feverish. "You are pretty warm... Do you want me to take you to the nurse?"

The thought of more eyes following them made Tweek want to faint, but he instead shook his head violently and responded, "GAH! No, I'm fine! I just want to get to class."

Kenny shrugged. "If you say so."

* * *

The two walked in classroom and took their seats near Butters. Kenny sat behind him, and Tweek took his place to Butters' right. Their cheap, metal, plastic and wood desks faced toward the front of the room where the whiteboard was against the wall. A few posters lined the walls, saying things like 'Drink Milk' and 'Just Say No'. To the left of the whiteboard sat Mr. Garrison, who looked like he would fall asleep any second, like every other day.

Mr. Garrison had been their teacher since they could remember. Of course, the occasionally had Mrs. Choksondk, and there was always Mr. Adler and Pearl, who taught Shop class and Home Economics respectively, but Mr. Garrison had stayed around the longest.

Butters turned to Tweek and asked, "Hey, did you get all your homework done?" Tweek nodded in response. "Aw, jeez... do you think Mr. Garrison will collect it today?"

He gave the champagne-haired boy a nervous smile. "He n-never collects it anyway, so- NGH- I wouldn't see why he would choose today to collect it."

As if on cue, Mr. Garrison picked up a stack of papers on his desk and tapped it a couple times to straighten it out. "Okay, class. Get out your homework and pass it to the front while the announcements are going."

Butters groaned, taking out from his folders whatever he had done. "My parents are gonna ground me for sure..." Kenny gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"Don't feel so bad. I didn't do any of the homework. I'm sure you'll be fine."

The boy in the light-blue shirt smiled and thanked him, saying that Kenny 'made him feel much better'. Despite Kenny's comforts, Butters' imminent grounding was unavoidable. The polar opposites of Kenny's redneck, irresponsible, uncaring parents, Butters' father and mother were as conservative and over-protective as it got. Any grade below and A was unacceptable, and any misdeed would get the frail blond boy grounded on the spot. This feeling of constant pressure and even fear he got from his parents gave him little nervous habits, like stuttering and rubbing his knuckles together. Tweek knew it was a thing to feel sorry for, but he (and everyone else) couldn't help but find his habits cute, along with the rest of him. The blond boy's favorite shirts were Hello Kitty, light blue colors or a hybrid of the two. Butters wore two clips in his hair to pull a bit of his bangs off to the side. The kinds of pins he wore were the sort of clips that five-year-old girls could just as easily wear, but somehow Butters pulled it off better. Butters Stotch wasn't only cute- he was nice, too. The kind of boy that donated his movie money to third world countries and brought homeless people back to his house.

Just then, the bell signalling the start of the day rang, and the PA system soon after came on with two cheerful beeps. "Good morning, South Park High School! These are the morning announcements. Tomorrow marks the day that..." Tweek tuned out the announcements, they never said anything important anyway. He answered questions when asked, payed attention when Mr. Garrison got enthusiastic. The graffiti littering his desk kept him entertained for the day, until Mr. Garrison dismissed them with a friendly, "Alright, ya little brats, go home now." The only thing Tweek really learned about in their class was the Kardashians and the Real Housewives of New Jersey, and he heard enough about that from Butters. Tweek was a bright kid underneath his twitchy, spastic exterior, so Calculus and English were easy subjects for him.

"Geez, I never knew Kim had done anything like that before," he heard Butters say to his left.

"I know what you mean. Pretty sick stuff," Kenny replied, being surprisingly successful at sounding interested. "Anyway, are you two ready to go home?"

Tweek nodded, taking a drink from his thermos. "G-get me out of here."

Just as they were about to exit the classroom, a blond girl named Bebe stepped in front of them. "Butters, aren't you staying for the GSA?" Tweek turned to Kenny, shooting him a questioning look. Kenny just smiled back sadly.

"Oh, golly, that's right! Sorry, fellas. You'll have to go on home without me. Unless you want to stay...?"

Before Tweek had a chance to ask what the GSA was, Kenny spoke up. "Sorry, Butters. We should really get home." The boys bid their farewells, Butters giving out hugs and Kenny waving to all the girls and flashing one of his smiles. Tweek was surprised nobody fainted. The two started toward the main doors in silence, the shouts of high schoolers surrounding them. Kenny let out a sigh of relief when they stepped outside into the cold Colorado air. No different from this morning, snow was falling and the clouds were blotting out the sun, making sure South Park was as cold as possible. When they were a good distance from the school, Tweek turned to Kenny.

"Dude, w-what's the GSA?"

"The Gay Straight Alliance. And of course, Butters goes." The orange-clad teen sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just don't see what I'm doing wrong."

"Neither do I. I don't r-really think you're- NGH- doing anything wrong, maybe Butters is just... B-being Butters and isn't picking up on anything. You know how totally oblivious he c-can be."

"Yeah, you're probably right... That doesn't make it any less frustrating though."

"Don't worry, K-Kenny. You'll win him over someday. I'm sure s-sooner or later he'll be as crazy- AUGH- for you as y-you are for him." Yes, it's true. Kenny, the blond haired, blue eyed beast, the lady killing bad-boy, the heartthrob of South Park high school was completely and entirely in love with his best friend. A guy. Who had absolutely no clue Kenny felt that way about him.

"I'm sorry," Kenny said after a pause in which he was trying to compose himself. "You're always helping me with my love life, and I never stop to ask or even think about yours. I'm pretty terrible, huh...?"

Tweek let out one of his habitual shouts, defending his friend. "No, it's totally fine! I don't have a l-love life to talk about in the first place! I-I like helping you, Kenny. It's not like I'm- NGH- going out of my way to listen to you."

Kenny laughed, patting his shoulder. "You're the best, Tweekers. But seriously, there's not anybody you even have eyes on? Not anyone?" Tweek shook his head, smiling at Kenny. "C'mon. Who's the lucky girl? Or guy, if you swing that way."

"Really," Tweek continued, "I have a-absolutely no love life to even mention. All the girls are either way too weird or taken, and all the guys are way too straight or taken."

Tweek stiffened when Kenny turned to him with a sly grin on his ridiculously handsome face. "So you are into guys, huh...?" Kenny pretended this was the first time Tweek had told him of his preferences. The shorter boy gave a fake gasp, pretending he had made a Freudian slip.

"Oh, n-no! Now you know my- AUGH- dark secret!" He lost it when Kenny started tickling him, writhing to get free from the gloved fingers.

* * *

**A/N:** (After edit): I've changed the Author's Notes in the beginning after getting a pretty enlightening review. It was... well, it didn't give a good feeling about the story, to say the least. I don't really have the best self confidence, so writing a negative Author's Note like that felt normal. But they were right, if I want this story to do well and be liked, I should be positive. Since I'm done with the story as of now (Nov 30th), I'll have more time to go back over chapters and make them better. On a lighter note, thank you very much for reading the first chapter, and I hope you liked it!


	2. Pianist

**A/N:** Just in case you're wondering, no, I totally didn't forget last night to upload this and so I'm doing it today, because that would just be silly of me. Haha. Ha. Haaaa...

Anyway, again, I haven't edited this chapter yet, but I will ASAP. If you see any mistakes, please let me know!

* * *

Tweek stepped inside his house, shutting the door softly behind him and resting his back against it. He was glad to be home after another boring day of school. He took several moments just relishing the feeling of being out of the pressure-filled high school, letting his eyes flutter closed.

"Tweek!" The skinny boy jumped and shrieked at the call of his name, opening his eyes to see his father standing before him. "Welcome home, son! Did you have a good day?"

"AUGH- y-yeah, Dad. It was... okay."

"Well, we're glad to have you home." His father looked him up and down and exclaimed, "Why, Tweek, you look exhausted. Here, I'll grab you some coffee." The brunette man turned and made for the kitchen, and Tweek soon heard the sound of the coffee maker turning on and getting to work. He sighed and pulled off his shoes, dropping his bag at the door. Oh, Jesus, thought Tweek, here come the metaphors...  
"Tweek," called his father from the kitchen, "you should really drink more coffee. Our coffee is like the dew in the spring mornings, the crisp air of the mountains. Our coffee is special, like the unconditional love in a kittens eyes, or a baby's first words. We make sure to roast and brew with extra care, and... Tweek, are you listening?"

"Of c-course, Dad." But he wasn't, not really. Tweek's dad got like this every time he got talking about coffee. He had been in the brewing business ever since Tweek could remember, and when he got started with his metaphors, there was no stopping him. However, he gladly thanked his dad anyway when he handed him a large cup full of the hot black beverage. Tweek grabbed his bag and made his way quickly up to his room. Mr. Garrison had assigned for him to watch the most recent episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians and write a two paragraph essay on his opinion of Ki'm's clothing choices. He sighed, flipping on the TV and pulling a spiral and a pen out from his bag. Tweek couldn't help but wonder how Mr. Garrison got away with sending out home and school work like this. After a full hour of restraining himself from tearing out his hair, he jotted down two of the world's weakest paragraphs ever written and put everything away. Just as he put his phone shrieked at him. Tweek yelled back, opening it when he had caught his breath again. He saw that he had gotten a text from Clyde, which said,

"hay tweek. i kno a guy who culd help u. names craig. wanna meat him?"

Tweek sighed at his friend's atrocious grammar and responded, "I'm not sure what you mean. Help me with what?" After very few moments, his phone buzzed and sang again, scaring him just as much as the first time.

"wit ur hole piano thing. he plays rly wel. u sed u thnk if u can heer the music frm ur dreem u mite figur out wat it meens, rite? i talkd 2 him n he sad he wood try 2 play teh song 4 u."

Tweek paused to think, running a free hand through his horrifically knotted hair. After several minutes of taking occasional gulps of his coffee and running his options through his mind, Tweek texted back to Clyde, "I'll let you know in the morning."

That night, the glass dream was vivider than ever. He could see everything clearly, every shimmer of light off the stars on the smooth trees, every patch of grass beneath his feet. The piano was no longer soft and quiet, but the loudest it had ever been. Tweek could have sworn it sounded like he was right next to it, but no piano was to be found. In fact, he could find nothing but the moon and the shrubs, never what he was looking for. When he woke up, he grabbed for his cellphone right away and sent a message to Clyde.

"I want to meet him." Tweek knew Clyde would be grinning in victory at this.

"kool. kenny n i r gona com n pik u up, is taht kool?" Tweek texted him back, assuring it would be. In the meantime, he got himself ready for school, toasting himself a piece of bread and downing a cup of coffee before making himself another batch for his thermos. It took Kenny and Clyde only a few minutes to reach Tweek's house, pulling up into the driveway and honking twice to let the small boy know they were there. He quickly got out of the house, walking speedily over to Kenny's beat up, chipped, dented red truck. Tweek tossed his heavy bag carelessly into the bed of the car, making the frame bounce on its wheels slightly. When he opened the door to the rusty car, Clyde scooted into the middle of the seats to make room for Tweek to sit down.

"Damn, Tweek, you'd better be more careful putting your bag into the trunk. If you do that again you might break Kenny's car."

"Shut up, dude," Kenny retorted, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he turned around, backing out of Tweek's driveway. Kenny's truck had been in the McCormick family since before any of them had been born, and it certainly showed. Kenny was a very safe, very good driver, but the same thing couldn't exactly be said about the rest of his family. His father and mother were constantly getting DUIs and speeding tickets, and that was reflected onto the poor red vehicle.

"NGH- g-good morning to you guys, too."

"Well, good morning, Tweek! Ready for another fantastic day of school?" Clyde asked sarcastically, slinging his arm over the back of the seat.

"Yeah, I guess... S-so anyway, you were going to take me to meet someone...?"

"Oh, dude, yeah!" exclaimed Clyde, as if he had forgotten about the whole thing. "You're going to love him, I'm sure. Craig is the coolest guy ever." Clyde got this distant, almost longing look in his eyes. As if he was remembering some old, fond memory. In fact, he was so distant that it took several shakes of the shoulder from Tweek to bring him back. After a bit he returned to earth, Clyde could be a total scatterbrain at times.

"What? Oh. Yeah, Craig's cool." Tweek sighed shakily at his friend's incredible behavior.

"A-anyway, you said he plays the p-piano?"

"Yeah, dude. Apparently he's won like, a gazillion awards for being so awesome at it. At least, that's what I've figured out."

"NGH- figured out?"

Clyde sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, as if exasperated with something. "You heard me right. Craig never says anything about himself. If you want to know anything about him you have to practically raid his room."

Tweek paused mid sip of his coffee, just barely keeping himself from choking on it or spitting it out in surprise. "Jesus, you didn't actually do that, did you!" Clyde chuckled, sounding part nervous, part guilty.

"Well, not really. It's not like I broke into his house in the middle of the night. I just... had a look for myself." The brunette left it at that, staring straight forward for the rest of the ride, a ghost of a smile on his face. It was still dark by the time they reached the high school, but the lights in the school made up for the darkness of the morning. They probably over-compensated, actually. The blinding lights had Tweek squinting for a good two minutes, trying to get adjusted to something other than pitch black.

"Craig said he'd meet you in the orchestra room, so if you want to find him, look there," advised Kenny, taking his hood down and ruffling his sandy hair. "I've gotta go make up a test."

"I'll keep you company," said Clyde, slipping his arm so it was twined with Kenny's, as if he was escorting the amber-eyed boy. Knowing Clyde, he would probably harass Kenny the entire time instead of just 'keeping him company'. Kenny laughed, straightening up and looking at his slightly shorter friend through his lashes. "Shall we, m' lady?" He turned and led Clyde off, turning to wave goodbye and good luck to Tweek.

Tweek began shivering extra, hard, nervous for some inexplicable reason. He had no idea why, but meeting this Craig guy had him feel like he was going to faint. He pulled on his golden hair, stealing a large gulp from his black and green thermos, trying his best to gather his nerves. He turned left and headed downstairs, suspense pushing down even harder on him at the clacking of his shoes on the glossy tiles under his feet. With nobody else in the hall, the normally quiet sound was amplified until it sounded like thunder crashes every time he set down a foot.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the orchestra room, one hand on the cold, metal knob, the other fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag. He realized that once he swung open that door he couldn't get cold feet and walk away again. What would he say? 'Oh, no, I'm not Tweek Tweak, I'm just some other student hanging out here an hour before school starts, and though it would be super fun to drop in on the orchestra room'? Impossible. With a final shake, the amber-eyed male threw open the door and walked in, heart racing at an inhuman pace. He looked around, eyes eventually falling on a tall black-haired boy standing to his right.

The male Tweek could only assume was Craig had a single finger laying on one of the keys of the sleek piano, as if he hadn't even noticed the twitchy figure enter. He stood next to an abandoned backpack. However, after a short second he lifted his head to look at Tweek, his face blank. Tweek was pretty sure he recognized him from class, but he never really knew him very well.

"...Hi. You're Tweek, right?" His voice was gravelly and monotone, and fit perfectly with his appearance

Tweek swallowed, making sure his voice wouldn't crack when he spoke. "Y-yeah. I'm Tweek. And you're Craig, right?" The black head simply nodded in response, pulling forward a chair and taking a seat, facing away from the piano.

"S-so um, should we get started?"

"No."

"GAH! No? Why no?"

Craig pulled another chair close to him with his foot, gesturing toward it with a flat, limp hand. "I can't help you until you tell me all about this dream of yours or whatever."

"...Wait. W-wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, dude."

Tweek fisted his hand in his shirt, fingers closing around the buttons. He tugged on it out of nervous habit, releasing some of his extra energy. Despite his objections, Tweek took a seat beside the new stranger, sitting near the edge out of pure intimidation.

"...You don't have to sit so far away from me, you know. I'm not going to bite you or anything." The thin boy inched further onto the chair, trying not to offend the raven-haired student. "Okay... now, tell me everything."

Tweek took a breath, locking his fingers together to get his mind off of the awkward fact that he was in the orchestra room with some guy he had just met, talking about something he usually only mentioned with his closest friends. "Uh, alright. P-pretty much I have this dream a-about some forest almost every night. NGH- okay, it's not exactly a forest, it's like a forest m-made of glass. And... and every time I'm running really, really fast through it, and I know I'm looking for something, but I d-don't know what. And... I guess this is the part I need you to help with, there's always this piano playing in the background. I have no idea where it's- NGH- coming from in the dream, but it's always there. I think that m-maybe if I can hear it when I'm awake, then I'll... I dunno, figure something out." Tweek tried his best not to freak out when Craig didn't look at him like he was crazy, and instead stared at him with the same placid face he wore through the entire story.

"Alright. You're sure it's not a song that you've heard before, right? Even from long ago or something?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I mean, it might be one, but I've never heard it if it is."

"You haven't played any instruments before, have you?"

"Not really. I played the recorder in like, f-fourth grade, but I- AUGH- really, really sucked," Tweek responded, laughing nervously a bit.

"Do you think you could hum it for me then?"

Tweek just barely held back a cringe. "I'm not exactly the best singer..."

Craig gave a half-smile, which Tweek figured was the best he could do, considering his slightly cold personality. "And I'm not the best at playing by ear. But we'll make it work." Tweek smiled back, feeling a little less self-conscious and anxious. Craig pulled his chair up closer to the piano, placing his hands gingerly on the keys.

"Just give me what you can remember." Surprisingly enough, even after hearing the same song night after night, Tweek couldn't remember very much of the song. After a bit of thought, he started to sing out the notes, trying his best to find the right pitch.

"So..." after some experimentation, Craig reproduced the first few notes, looking over to the blond for confirmation. Tweek nodded, staring at the long, thin fingers stretched over the black and white board.

"T-that sounds right to me."

"B flat major is our key then, right?"

"...Sure, dude. NGH- I don't speak m-music anymore."

This continued on, the two males seated at the boxy instrument in the dim room, one humming horribly off key, trying his best to recreate the melody from his dream, the other trying to replay and perfect it, playing tentatively on the instrument, stopping occasionally to jot down notes. They practiced until they were nearly late for class, or until the music teacher kicked them out. Occasionally the orchestra players would join them, taking seats around the piano on the ground, next to the boys, sometimes even on the flat top.

This same cycle continued for a handful of weeks, Tweek waking up and preserving the dream the best he could, singing the melody all the way to school, continuing to hum the moment he stepped into the classroom. Some other students even began waking up and arriving early along with them. They never asked questions about what the song was or why they were trying to decode it. Instead they helped both Craig and Tweek, telling the blond which parts to listen to in the dreams, the melodies, harmonies, chords and patterns, and helping the blue-eyed one to record it onto paper or transfer it onto the piano. After not long they had four lines of both the melody and harmony.

"Alright, we should really get to class."

"Y-yeah, you're right..."

"Aw, but we almost have the dynamics down, can't you stay for just a little longer?" pleaded a girl with dark, pin-straight hair.

"Sorry, Wendy. If we don't leave now then we're going to be late," Craig said, standing up and replacing the chair he had taken.

"I guess you're right. I can't be here tomorrow, but I'll be here Friday, okay?" she gave Tweek and then Craig hugs, Tweek being much more willing to oblige compared to the ebony-haired musician. The entire orchestra room waved goodbye to the duo as they left, even the unfriendly teacher raised a hand slightly to them.

As the metal, blue doors shut behind them, Craig turned to Tweek. "Hey, I don't have to be home as early as usual tonight, so do you think you would want to stay a little after school to work on the song? I would probably end up staying late in school just because I don't have anything else to do," he said in his gravelly, monotonus voice.

"Well... s-sure, I guess. I don't n-need to get homework done right away, Mr. Garrison didn't assign us too much soap opera work tonight." Craig smiled at this, but it quickly faded. He rounded the corner and began scanning the walls until his eyes landed on the black-rimmed clock high on the wall.

"Shit! Dude, we need to run. Class starts in like, two minutes." Tweek felt a sinking sickness fill his body at this, raising his eyes to check the clock. His hopes of Craig pulling a joke on him or misreading the clock were shattered when he saw that they indeed had a cringe-worthy amount of time left to get to class.

"C-come on, we need to go then!"

Craig and Tweek climbed the stairs to the fourth floor as fast as they could, worried by the fact that nobody was left in the halls. Every clock they passed simply made them run faster, until they nearly ran flat into the door of Mr. Garrison's classroom. Craig made a reach for the handle, pulling it open and ushering Tweek in before him. Seconds after they both stepped inside the bell signalling the beginning of the day rang, letting the two release a sigh.

"Okay, okay, shut up and sit down," the grey-haired, balding man called to the room. Tweek turned and smiled at Craig, who nodded back, the two taking their seats.

"Class, we're gonna try something a little different today. Instead of talking about soap operas and reality TV shows, we're going to try having a discussion." Kyle, the red haired, green eyed Jewish boy raised his hand and started talking without being called on, cutting off Mr. Garrison before he could continue.

"Mr. Garrison, we discuss things every day. When are we going to learn about the Kumlinge Battle or the effects of the Industrial Revolution in United Kingdom or the alternative energy in Europe?" His expression was hard and looked angry, to say the least. Kyle was a lover of knowledge, so being in a class with a teacher that cared only for reality TV was not a great arrangement for him. The curly haired boy asked just about every other day when they would actually learn something of substance, and every day he got the same response.

"No, Kyle, we'll learn about those... later. And this discussion is going to be different, in this kind of discussion we're going to-" Kyle pulled an offended face at this, jaw dropping and eyebrows furrowing.

"But Mr. Garrison, that's what you say every year, and every year we just end up talking about Jersey Shore or Gossip Girl or whatever you're watching at the time, and I really think that if we keep this up then-"

"Kyle, I said we'll learn about the Kum-whatever battle later, now shut up and listen to what we're going to do now. Anyway class, this discussion isn't like the other ones we have. In this discussion each and every one of you will write a completely anonymous question on a piece of notebook paper and fold it in half. It can be serious or just some question about... I dunno, what's for lunch or if anyone saw the latest episode of whatever show you kids watch nowadays." Butters raised his hand up high and waited for the gray-haired main to call on him.

"Yes, Butters?"

"W-well... do we all have to write a question? Can't we just not turn a paper in?"

"No, you must all turn a question in. I want to waste as much time in this god-forsaken class as possible."

Stan spoke out without raising his hand, clearly trying to restrain himself from glaring at the aging teacher. "You know, that's a huge waste of paper. I'm sure once you're done that you'll just throw each and every single sheet away, won't you? Do you know that every single day, seventy eight million acres of forest are chopped down each day? And you're just going to waste at least twenty five sheets just because you want to 'waste as much time as possible'. On that note, you should stop handing out such thick packets for us to take notes in. I thought our school was 'going green', and here you are, wasting as much paper as possible. Can't you stop to think that-"

"Jesus, Stan, if you really want me to recycle your damn papers then I will. You can even take them home so you can make new sheets out of them in your little nature friendly, save the whales homo ass-pirate farm. Would that make you happy?"

Surprisingly enough, Stan actually looked offended by this. The black-haired boy was usually pretty passive to such comments, so his clear reaction to Mr. Garrison's verbal assault actually shocked Tweek.

"Write your questions, I'll come around and pick them up in a second." Tweek tapped the tip of his pen on the first line of his paper, trying to think of a question. He decided to go simple for the first one of these 'discussions,' and wrote down something innocent. Their easily aggravated teacher came around the room to collect the sheets soon after, looking as bored as could be. When he returned to his desk he set them all down in a stack and landed heavily in his chair, picking up the one on top.

"Okay, children, let's see... this one asks..." he pushed his black, square framed glasses further up on his nose, holding the paper back so he could see. "'Why... why is this class so gay?" He gave the class a look of warning as they did their best to hold back laughter.

"Let's just go on to the next one then. Now this one says... 'This class is really, really gay'." Mr. Garrison raised his arms in disbelief, slamming the paper violently to the side of his desk. "Children, that isn't even a question! Who the hell taught you grammar?"

Tweek heard Kenny mutter from his left, "Definitely not you." Tweek just barely caught himself from bursting out laughing, biting his lip and looking at Kenny with quickly watering eyes, the handsome boy smirking back.

Mr. Garrison said, "I'll just move on to the next one then." He began muttering the questions aloud under his breath until he found a proper one. "'Why is this class'... 'This is stupid', no... Oh, children, here's a good one! 'What is your favorite fruit, and why?'" Tweek felt a spark of nausea and nervousness set in at the sound of his question, wondering what people would answer. He saw a hand go up to his right and saw it was Bebe, a pretty, curly blond haired girl.

"My favorite is strawberries, I guess because they're always really sweet. I've liked them since I can remember, actually."

"Really? Me too! Spoke up another girl from the front of the class."

Clyde said from Tweek's right, "Strawberries are good, but not my favorite. I like cantaloupe the most, cause they're all soft on the inside and not on the rind."

Kenny raised his hand, and Mr. Garrison called on him, using a sleepy monotone voice. "My favorite fruit is Butters." The class was silent for a few moments, until the entire class simultaneously started to laugh, caught off guard by Kenny's left field answer. Tweek was pretty sure he even heard Mr. Garrison laugh a couple times.

"You never said why," Clyde called back to Kenny.

"Uhh... 'cause... he's probably the cutest thing ever. And he's short," Kenny specified, reaching forward to pat the top of Butters' head. Tweek felt a pang of sympathy shoot through his stomach, knots forming out of the pure pain he felt for Kenny. He wished that the small, champagne haired boy would come to his senses. Both boys deserved a happy ending.

"Alright, alright, settle down," the man in the green shirt called, taking the next few papers, sorting out the real questions from the ones calling the class 'gay'. The latter stack was much higher, but some actually followed Mr. Garrison's instructions and wrote proper questions.

"Damn, all of you keep writing about your stupid relationship problems... It's just high school, you don't have to make so much drama over it, god," he ranted, shaking his head in disapproval. "I'll read them anyway, I suppose." He cleared his voice and then read off the writing on the paper. "'What do you do when you're trying your hardest to help a friend, but you're not sure how to?'"

The room was quiet for a moment before Bebe spoke up. "I kind of wish this one would be more specific so we knew what they were helping their friend with, but in any situation you should stay by your friend and just support them. I know it really sucks when you want to do something for someone but you can't, but sometimes the best you can do is just being there for your friends." A baffled silence settled over the room. Everyone always underestimated Bebe because she has been the captain of the varsity cheerleading squad for all her high school years. However, under her fair surface she was very smart and always gave good advice.

Once the room snapped out of their shock, Kyle raised his voice. "What if just being there for someone isn't enough?"

Heidi turned around from in front of him, tossing her long, dark brown hair behind her shoulder. She looked around the class as she answered, almost like she was searching for the person asking the question. "If being there isn't enough for them, maybe you should ask them what you can do to help, if you haven't already. Sometimes you just have to be assertive and do or say something blunt."

Since nobody said anything more, Mr. Garrison pulled another slip of paper from the stack. "This one's a good one. 'What do you do if you think you like someone (crush-wise) you just recently met, but you're pretty much positive they don't like you the same way?'"

"Uh... If this were me, I would just try to be like, extra kind to them or whatever, maybe try to hint a little bit that I liked them. If things don't work out, then oh well. I mean I can't really force them to like you, and besides, it sounds like they just met this person. Give it some time and just get to know this guy or girl as a person, I guess," advised Stan.

"Stan's right," agreed Heidi. "Be nice and friendly, but whatever you do, don't smother them."

"Ugh, biggest turn-off ever," added Red.

Mr. Garrison ended class early, giving the students an extra ten minutes to talk. Tweek let out a relieved sigh, leaning back in his chair. The discussion was much less pressure than he thought it would be, which he was thankful for. Butters leaned back as well, and Kenny leaned forward to rest his chin on the thin boy's shoulder.

"W-well, that was pretty fun, now wasn't it, fellas?" The light blue clad male turned to Tweek and placed his hand on the top of Kenny's head, smiling at the two.

"Actually, yeah, it kind of was. I was expecting it to suck vinegary balls because Garrison came up with it, but... that was actually pretty cool." Tweek nodded, agreeing with the two, and started to pack up his bag.

"Oh, while I'm thinking about it, Kenny, you- AUGH- don't have to give me a ride home today."

"Really? Do you have to see a teacher or something?" he asked, raising his eyebrows the slightest bit.

Tweek shook his head, flashing a small smile. "N-no, Craig and I are going to keep working on the song thing after school today." He expected his good friend to be happy for him, but instead the McCormick boy shot him an almost worried look. "Is something the m-matter?"

Kenny quickly covered the expression up, shaking his head and grinning. "Not at all, Tweekers. Now that I think about it, you've spent a lot of time working on that. Are you close to being done?"

"Not at all. Craig keeps wanting to make sure that every little note and dynamic, whatever that- UGH- means, is just right. I t-think he's getting more excited about it than I am."

Speak of the devil, Tweek felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, and he turned around to see the black-haired pianist. "Ready to go?" As soon as the words left his mouth, the bell signalling the end of the day screeched over the PA system, releasing the students. Tweek stood, lifting his bag (with great struggle) and slinging it over his shoulder in response. The two slowly made their way out of the room and down the hall, giving their friends their goodbyes. Tweek wished there were windows in the orchestra room, because it was positively beautiful out.

The sun had managed to push its way through the blanked of clouds above, pouring out in golden rays onto the snowy ground of Colorado. The slices of snow-covered earth hit by the light were illuminated, sparkling and winking at Tweek as they walked. It was just barely snowing, the white flakes fluttering down and falling to sleep on the glassy drifts. The occasional bird or squirrel made its way long the ground or along a branch, disturbing the white landscape, but movement was minimal.

Tweek gave a sigh of longing, secretly wishing he could be outside in the beauty, but he was also glad he was going to work with Craig. Clyde was definitely right, Craig was an unbelievably cool guy. Over the past weeks Tweek had learned that the blue-eyed male played the piano, had a pet guinea pig named Stripe, lived with his mom, dad, and sister Ruby, hates green tea and Twinkies, and his least favorite person was Eric Cartman. but that last part was the same for most people in the small town.


	3. Confession

**A/N:** Here's the third chapter of the Creek part of Knots! I'm pretty sure there will be one more chapter of Creek, and then the Style part will come up. As usual, if you see anything you think should be changed or is confusing, tell me! Enjoy.

* * *

They soon reached the orchestra room, slipping past the students exiting with their large, unwieldy instruments. Very few students were still inside, pulling black cases out of the tall row of instrument lockers or slipping into practice rooms. Standing near the middle of the room were two girls- Wendy and Bebe, who seemed to be discussing something important when they came in. Wendy smiled at them nonetheless, combing her fingers through her dark hair before speaking.

"Hey, Tweek, Craig! Here to work on the song?"

"Yup, w-we're staying late today. Do you want to practice with us?"

"I would love to, but I should really get home. I'll be here Friday though!" she linked arms with Bebe and walked out of the room, leaving Craig and Tweek alone. They stood in silence for only a few seconds, before the pianist sat at the piano and tried his best to avoid awkwardness. "Okay, we have the first four lines down, but we don't have any dynamics. Do you think you could tell me which parts of the song were what dynamic?"

Tweek stared blankly at him. "What?"

Craig laughed at him, he had forgotten about Tweek's deficiency in music. "Sorry. I mean we're missing which parts are loud and which are soft. Can you tell that from inside the dream?" Tweek nodded.

"Yeah, but- NGH- how would we do that? I w-wouldn't know what do write in the music."

"Um... When I reach a part and it gets louder or softer, just stop me and tell me how loud or soft it is. I'll take it from the top and we'll just see what happens I guess."

Tweek watched Craig before he started, the way he looked back and forth between the music and gently set his fingers on the keys, the way his spine straightened and his shoulders rolled back. Before he started, the black-haired boy took in a deep breath, his entire body rising and settling again with the movement. When his breath was released and he settled down onto the keys, he began playing. His long fingers crawled over the black and white board, making the instrument sing quietly and slowly. Tweek felt like he was inside the dream again, sprinting through the forest, looking for something, but he didn't know what. Tweek's eyes fluttered closed. He could almost see the glass landscape shimmering at him, feel the cold air biting at his skin. He wished he could figure out what the dream meant, but he just didn't know what to think of it. It had become more and more realistic over the past few weeks, until he almost wasn't sure he was really dreaming until he woke up. Tweek could feel himself getting sleepier and sleepier, until he felt a hand jostle him. Startled, he let out a shriek.

"Tweek? I got through the whole piece and you didn't stop me once. Do you want to hear it again?" Craig had a small smile on his face, and Tweek could tell that he knew the blond had begun to drift off.

"NGH- yeah, s-sorry. Could you play it again for me?"

The black haired pianist answered by turning back to the piano and starting again. Tweek made sure to pay attention this time around.

"R-right here... It's kinda soft in the beginning." Craig picked up a pencil and set it on the music.

"Just kinda soft? Not really soft, right?" Tweek nodded, and the blue-eyed boy marked 'mp' between the two staffs. He went back to the beginning, playing quietly.

This cycle of playing, stopping, perfecting, and repeating went on for only half an hour or so until they reached the end of what they had gotten so far.

They were quiet for a moment before Tweek asked, "...D-do you want to try to get more of the song down now? It's not dark yet, s-so we still have some time to work."

Craig was quiet for a moment, but after a bit he turned to Tweek, eyes fixed on the ugly blue carpet beneath their feet. "Actually, I want to talk to you about something. Is it okay if we stop working for a bit?"

The hazel-eyed male nodded yes, scooting forward a bit on his seat. "Of course. Is s-something wrong?" Something about the black haired male was different. Craig always had an almost professional, quiet air about himself, but the way he was talking made Tweek feel a little more than unsettled.

"Yes. Well, no, not really. Kind of." Craig lifted a hand and rubbed at his face in exhaustion, as if this matter had been bothering him for a while. "Tweek, what would you do if I said that I... that I'm gay?"

"Well... probably nothing." The seemed to catch the tall male off guard, as he lifted his head and his eyes widened in clear surprise. Tweek went on to say, "I mean, a lot of my friends are gay. Kenny is, C-Clyde is, I'm pretty sure Butters is gay too... NGH- I'm glad you came out to me."

Craig continued to be silent, and eventually looked Tweek straight in the eyes, his eyebrows knit together in worry. "What would you do if I said that I was gay for you?" Now this caught Tweek's attention.

"W-wait, for me?"

"Yeah." The orchestra room quickly gained an awkward silence, Tweek leaned back, shocked in his chair, Craig scooted forward, nervous to hear what he had to say.

"But... AUGH- you've only known me for like, a m-month!"

"I know, but I just can't help it. I really like you, Tweek. I think one day I might even lo-"

Tweek cut him off abruptly. "NGH- don't say it! I d-don't... I don't know what to say."

"Do you like me back, or no?" Craig had begun to bite his lip nervously, a hint of pleading hope in his eyes.

"I... I don't... I... have to go." Tweek stood from his spot at the front of the orchestra room, making his way quickly for the door.

"Tweek, wait!" Long, thin fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from walking any further. "I'm sorry. I came on too strong, I know. You don't have to answer me right away, I don't want you to get hurt..." On this last note, Craig's voice drifted off. When he started again, sadness had permeated deep through his tone. "My last relationships with other guys haven't worked out, but I think if I tried one more time then it would work out. Everything just kind of fell apart with Stan, and there was that thing with Clyde, but-" Tweek whipped around, stunned.

"You dated Clyde?"

"No, that's not what I said! Clyde was-"

"Y-you had something with him though! This is way too much pressure!"

"Tweek please, listen-"

"You went out with one of my b-best friends! What more is there to- AUGH- say!"

"Tweek, listen! Clyde liked me, but we never dated, I promise! He tried to get me to, but we were never in a relationship. Please trust me." Craig's eyes were sincere, pleading the thin male to believe him. Tweek surrendered, sighing and relaxing his stance.

"Fine. I believe you. I'm still not sure what to do though..."  
"Give me a chance. I think we can make it work if we try. I don't want you to feel forced into anything, but I think we could be happy if you're willing to... to be my boyfriend."

Tweek took a breath and said, "Okay. F-fine, I'll give it a try."

* * *

The door shut behind Tweek with a soft click. After a long, slightly awkward walk with Craig, he was glad to be home. He was still trying to register what had just happened, running back over the events of the afternoon._ So... I went to school, went to the orchestra room with Craig, wrote all the ceramics or whatever for the piece, and... said that I would be his boyfriend after figuring out he dated two of my best friends?_ He thought. Shit. I need to talk to Kenny.

Tweek dropped his bag near the door, slipped off his shoes, and quietly made his way up to his room. When he swung open the door to the small room, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and speed-dialed Kenny. He picked up on the third ring.

"Tweekers?"

"Y-yeah, it's me, Kenny."

"Hey, kiddo! What's up?"

"UGH- uh... I need to see you, like, right now." Tweek made his way over to his green-sheeted bed and sat down on it, trying his best to breathe normally.

"Dude, you sound really freaked out. I mean, more than normal. Is everything okay?"

"I don't think so. Can you come over?"

"Of course. Anything to get me out of here," Kenny said. Tweek could hear a zipping noise in the background, which he assumed was Kenny's hoodie. "I'll see you in twenty minutes or so, 'kay? Don't do anything that I would until then," he said, trying to make Tweek loosen up. It didn't work.

"Th-thanks, Kenny. See you soon." Tweek's phone beeped when his friend hung up, and he snapped the black device shut and set it on his nightstand. He thought about what Kenny said as he waited.

Kenny had never led a particularly easy life. His parents were drug addicts and alcoholics, and were almost always fighting. They had numerous children to provide for and were poor in the first place, so Kenny didn't have a whole lot. Through his childhood he was completely un-sheltered to drugs, alcohol and abuse, which messed him up a lot. They made numerous empty promises; we'll stop fighting, we'll pay more attention to you, we'll stop drinking and smoking. But they never really meant it. If it weren't for Tweek, Stan, Kyle and his other friends, Kenny would probably be doing hard drugs right now instead of coming over to see Tweek. He never really liked to talk about his home life, whenever he did he always seemed like he felt guilty for talking about himself.

Thinking about all the hardships Kenny had been through made him angry at all the people who envied him. He often heard people talking about how lucky and fortunate and handsome the blond was, how they wished they could be him, how their lives were so difficult. And at school, Kenny did seem like he had it all. The boy was unbelievably popular; if you asked anyone if they knew Kenny McCormick they would automatically grin and nod and say, 'Yeah, we're friends!' And it was true, Kenny was friends with nearly everyone. He was also stunningly handsome with his honey blond hair, his piercing blue eyes, his tall, thin frame. And sure, most knew about his poverty, but not about the drugs he did as a nine-year-old, his negligent parents, the hell he went through every day (literally and figuratively). In all honesty, Tweek felt a little bad, complaining to and calling over Kenny so often about such little things. But it seemed the lithe boy enjoyed listening to people's problems. He could have sworn Kenny said 'it's easier to listen to other people's problems than deal with my own,' but he denied admitting it soon after.

Sooner or later the unfortunate male was standing in his bedroom doorway, cheeks and nose red from the cold, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, snowflakes still melting on the top of his head and on the fake brown fur on the edge of his hood. He shuffled into the room, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

"Hey, blondie." Kenny walked over and took a seat in Tweek's desk chair, spinning around so he was facing his coffee loving friend. "What can I do you for?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his spread knees and hanging his hands out in front of him.

Tweek was silent, but stood up heartbeats later. "Do you want me to t-take your jacket? Or get you a towel or- NGH- something?" Kenny shook his head.

"No, it's okay. I just want to hear what you want to say." He smiled softly at the amber-eyed male, inviting him to speak.

Tweek could only stand there with his mouth open, but he managed to sit back down on his bed and get out of his system, "Craig kind of asked me to be his boyfriend, and I k-kind of said yes." Kenny sighed and ran a hand through his golden locks, leaning back a bit.

"I thought so. And... this is a problem, yes?"

"Yeah... I mean, I g-guess. I just... I'm not even sure I like him. I'm not even totally sure I like guys like that at all! I mean, I t-think I do, but I'm still figuring myself out... Do you think I did the right thing by saying yes?"

"I'm not even sure, can you tell me what happened?"

"R-right, sorry... T-there isn't really much to tell. After we were done working he said we needed to talk, and he came out to me. He said he might have feelings for me, and I ended up saying I would give him a chance."

"So you're not sure you actually want to even give him a chance?"

"Well... I suppose, yeah."

"Tweek, I say just give the poor guy a chance. You may not be sure about it right now, but you'll probably end up having a lot of fun. If something goes wrong then you two break up and go on with your lives. Plus, I'm pretty sure Craig wouldn't refuse to be your friend anymore or something if things don't work out." Even with Kenny's advice, Tweek bit his lip, unsure about dating Craig. The handsome blond noticed this and spoke up again. "This is something more than you not being sure about liking Craig, isn't it?"

Tweek fisted a hand in his hair in frustration, twitching a bit. "Dude, Craig dated Clyde and Stan before me. Wait, n-no, Clyde had a thing for him, and he- NGH- dated Stan. Or was it the other way around...? Jesus, this is too much pressure!"

Kenny's eyes widened and his brows lifted a bit. "Wait, he dated... or... had a thing with Clyde and Stan? That's... wow, I did not see that one coming." Kenny leaned back, fully reclined in the black chair. "Did he know you before the whole thing with Stan and Clyde, or...?"

"I have no idea... I was too upset to- NGH- ask anything. And now I'm dating him. What should I do, Kenny? I'm tired of thinking about this..."

"I think that you should keep your word and at least give this whole thing a shot. I also think you should try talking to him about Stan and Clyde. But don't let previous relationships get in the way of this one, that's a big no. I have to say that you two really do seem like a good couple, and I'm glad you're going out." Kenny patted Tweek's knee, giving him a sad grin. "If you try, things will work themselves out. I'm sure of it."

The two sat comfortably, the room calm and quiet save for the ticking of a clock somewhere in the hallway and the wind combing through the trees outside.

"Well, I'd better get home. I've got Garrison's dumb homework to do. I hope I could help, Tweekers." The blue eyed male stood, straightening and brushing off his jacket and making his way for the door. Just as he was turning the handle, Tweek spoke up.

"Kenny?" The blond stopped and turned his head to look at the twitchy boy, curiosity in his eyes. "Do you want to spend the night or something? It's g-gonna get dark soon, and- NGH- it's looking like it might get stormy out pretty soon."

He turned and smiled gratefully at Tweek. "No, I should probably get home. My parents will probably drink themselves to death if I don't go and make them take a nap or something. Thanks though, blondie. You're real sweet."

"And Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there... do you want to talk about anything? I'm always complaining to you, but you hardly ever talk about your problems to me. It makes me feel kinda guilty."

A sad expression washed over Kenny's face, and he slipped his hands inside his jacket pockets. He tried his best to cover up the emotion, but traces of it were still left in his eyes. "No, I don't have anything I really need to talk about. You're the best, do you know that, Tweekers?"

The twitchy boy smiled at him, pulling his feet up onto his bed so he was sitting cross-legged. "If you say so, Kenny. Don't forget that if you ever n-need someone to talk to- AUGH- then I'm here. Get home q-quickly and safely, okay?"

Kenny sounded thankful when he said, "Thanks, kiddo. Take care," and he shut the door quietly behind himself.

* * *

Breath clouded about his mouth, his lungs burning hot. He found it hard to breathe after so many hastened breaths, but he pushed on, not caring about the numbness in his legs, his racing heart. Smooth branches and gleaming leaves slipped past him, a shapeless blur. The freezing air around him was merciless, raising the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck. He knew he was close to what he was looking for. He felt almost warm as he grew closer and closer to his goal, his stomach clenching in anticipation, adrenaline corsing through his body. The heat enclosed his body as he tore around the trunk of a glossy tree, eyes wide. He blinked, not believing what he saw.

Tweek's phone buzzed, pushing him through that final length between sleep and the conscious world. He groaned, tangling two of his fists in his matted hair. He was so close, whatever he was trying to find was right in front of him, but he couldn't stay asleep long enough to see what it was. He untangled one of his hands from his hair to search on his nightstand for his phone, finding it after not very long.

He had a text message from Kenny, which said, 'Craig just messaged me. He said that he wanted to go on a date with you sometime soon, to help you make up your mind as to if you think you really want to go through with this whole thing. I figured I would message you to keep the car ride with Clyde from being a little too awkward.'

Tweek sighed, trying to control his fingers for long enough to get a proper message out of the cellphone. 'Can you give me his number? I'd like to talk to him myself.' The blond sat up and rubbed at his face, trying to sober himself. He quietly and solemnly made himself ready for the day, pulling his green button-up shirt over his arms, buttoning it up the best his shaking hands would let him. He made his way down the wooden stairs, turning into the kitchen to put on some coffee, the soft murmuring it made being the only background noise as he made sure he had all of his books in his bag, his homework where he could find it, his thermos cleaned out and refilled, busying himself as he waited for Kenny's truck to roll into his frozen driveway. Tweek was on his third time around on checking if he had everything he needed for the day when Kenny pulled up and waved at him. Tweek opened up the door and walked carefully over to the car, placing his bag in the trunk, and scooting in next to Clyde, as usual.

The brunette smiled at Tweek and said, "Hi, Tweekers," casually. Tweek returned the greeting, trying his best to act like his normal self. All through the ride he couldn't help but feel a little awkward though, fiddling with the end of his shirt to try to distract himself. Kenny and Clyde did most of the talking, Tweek remaining silent, eyes fixed on the white landscape outside the truck.

After what seemed like an eternity to Tweek, they reached the school, skidding as they pulled sloppily into a parking spot. The blond tore open the door, shuffling out quickly, eager to get out of the rusty car. Clyde stumbled out behind him, shutting the door again with one hand, the other ruffling his brown locks. "Are you okay, Tweek? You've been acting extra tense all morning."

Tweek nodded, fighting to keep his eyes locked on Clyde's, trying to sound honest. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just had a weird night."

"Me too, dude. I like, couldn't sleep at all last night," he said, accompanied by a yawn to emphasize his point.

The three boys hurried up to the school on slick sidewalks and went their separate ways once they got inside, Tweek to the orchestra room, Kenny to go flirt with Butters, Clyde to go finish his homework before school started. Before they went off, Kenny slipped a small piece of paper into Tweek's hand, succeeding in not letting Clyde see. Tweek clenched his fist softly, hiding the note. When he turned to head downstairs, he unfolded and read it. Craig's cell phone number was written inside, with obnoxious little pink hearts drawn to the right. Tweek smiled at Kenny's juvenile humor, folding the paper back up and dropping it inside his bag.

The coffee loving male was about to open the doors when he heard the sound of the piano from the inside, stopping him in his tracks. He pushed down the handle and pulled open the door quietly, trying his best to be as silent as possible. When he got inside the room, he looked to the right to see Craig seated at the piano, eyes travelling occasionally between his fingers and the sheet of paper in front of him. It wasn't Tweek's piece, but it was equally beautiful. Something was different about Craig's blue eyes and expression.

Normally the black-haired boy's eyes looked asleep, his face emotionless. But as he played, he looked unbelievably alive, focused intensely on the music. He was enveloped by pure, raw emotion- his eyes shining with an unearthly light, his frame pulsing and dancing with the notes, as if the two were one. Even his breath was unified with the melody, his chest rising and falling with the breath of the music. The dark haired musician had Tweek in a trance. He felt as if something had a hold on his heart, and suddenly the thin boy found his breath lost. The bony male only found it again when Craig and the music seemed to separate at just the right moment, his fingers lifting from the ivory keys. But even though the notes had stopped, Craig's eyes were still lost somewhere far away, swimming with the left over emotion. Tweek called him back from his dreamy state when he spoke up. Craig looked up in surprise when the blond started to talk.

"C-Craig, that was... that was incredible," he said, dropping his bag at his side. "I can't even believe... W-where in the world did you learn to do that?"

He blushed a bit, and tried to hide it by lowering his head and bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Uh... I don't really know. I have a pretty good private tutor, and I practice a lot, so probably from that."

Tweek walked over to Craig, still locked in a daze, and took a seat next to him. He took a look at the sheet of music, and saw that it was entirely handwritten save for the staffs, which were printed from a computer.

"Oh, Jesus, don't tell me you wrote this y-yourself- NGH."

"No, this is from a movie I saw. I wanted to play it and couldn't find any copies of it on the internet, so I just listened to it and played it until I got all the notes right."

"I t-thought you said you weren't good at playing things by ear!" Tweek exclaimed, shocked.

"I'm really not, it took me weeks to figure it out."

"Well... have you ever written anything yourself?"

"Yeah, none of it is all that good though."

"Would you play something for me?" Tweek scooted forward in his chair, eager to hear one of the aquamarine eyed male's compositions.

He hesitated a bit, but reached into his bag and pulled out a folder without much of a fight. "Again, none of it is that great, but I'll play you something if you really want to hear it." His fingers flipped through sheets upon sheets of messy, smudged papers, eventually grabbing hold of one and pulling it cautiously out of the pocket. He placed it on the music rack and got himself situated before beginning.

Craig wasted no emotion, it seemed like he put everything he had into the notes. If Craig thought this wasn't good, Tweek wondered what he would call good. He couldn't believe the tall boy didn't find the piece amazing, because Tweek was absolutely blown away. Despite the pianist's distaste and modesty for the piece, he played it beautifully. Tweek felt his face heating up, his palms beginning to sweat and heat circling around his waist as if he was wearing layers upon layers of coats. Craig's hands were mesmerizing as they traveled over the board, sliding not only over the keys but also up and down the ones he pressed in. It seemed almost as if Craig had the music in his fingers, moulding and shaping it so it sounded exactly the way he wanted. Tweek almost wished Craig would have made it longer, because it was over way before he would have liked it to be. The ebony haired boy made Tweek long for any kind of music talent, he wished he could experience even just a taste of what Craig must feel as he played.

"See? Not all that great," he said, snapping Tweek out of his second trance that day.

"Jesus, dude! A-are you kidding? That was incredible! You need to get some- AUGH- more self-esteem." Craig let a smile grace his lips at this, and thanked Tweek. Craig looked up at Tweek, as if he had just remembered something.

"Oh, do you want to work on your piece some more?"

Tweek took a glance at the clock and saw that school didn't start for another fifteen minutes or so, and accepted. They managed to get quite a bit of work done. By the time they had to leave for class, the two had gotten a line and a half written out completely when they departed.

As the walked, Craig turned to the twitchy blond and asked, "Hey, would you want to go on a date with me sometime soon? I figured it might help you find out if you really wanted to... to give this whole thing a shot or not."

"Kenny messaged me about that this morning... I th-think that would be- NGH- nice."

"Really?" Craig seemed more than surprised at this. "Would you want to go to a movie with me tomorrow then?" Tweek nodded, grinning. He almost couldn't believe himself, but he was actually feeling a little excited about going on a date with the dark-haired boy. In fact, he was excited about dating Craig in general.

"Friday would be perfect."

* * *

"Oh, Jesus, I can't do this! This is way too much pressure!"

"Tweek, hold still, or I'm going to rip your hair out!" Kenny exclaimed, trying to steady Tweek's head. Kenny and Butters of them sat in Tweek's bathroom, Kenny trying his best to get a brush through Tweek's hair without much success. They spent the last five minutes trying to properly button the coffee addict's shirt, and the half hour before that Kenny was busy trying to get the hazel-eyed boy to calm down and accept that he 'is going to go to the movies and have fun with his boyfriend whether he liked it or not'.

"T-Tweekers, I'm sure you and Craig are gonna have a great time! Just be your w-wonderful lil' self and I'm sure everything will be fine." Tweek remained unconvinced. Butters pulled a hairclip from his own hair and pinned it into the nervous boy's. It had Hello Kitty's face on it, which earned himself a smile that said 'Really?' from Kenny. However, neither of the boys made any move to take it out.

"Oh, god! You don't have head lice, do you, Butters? AUGH- I'm gonna get head lice!"

Butters took Tweek's hands before he had a chance to reach up to tear the clip out of his hair, looking Tweek straight in the eyes. "I promise I have no head lice, Tweek. Y-you look very handsome." The champagne-haired boy reached up and patted the paranoid male on the head, grinning innocently.

Kenny finished brushing Tweek's hair and began fluffing it up and ruffling it here and there, trying to make it look just right.

"W-why Tweek, you look so neat! Your hair is like feathers, look!" Butters took his hands again, pulling him up from his seat on the edge of his bathtub and gesturing to the mirror. Butters was right; Tweek's hair was soft and groomed looking, not like the tangled mess it usually was. Kenny had done a really good job.

Once Kenny had convinced Butters that no, one Hello Kitty clip in his hair was enough, he did not need any more (but that meant that Kenny had to wear one instead), they pulled Tweek out of the bathroom. The two blue-eyed boys leaded him over to the couch, sitting down on the plushy green cushions and pulling the fragile male down between them.

"Okay, Tweek. Quiz time," Kenny said, grinning. "Where is your money for the ticket and snacks?"

"NGH! I-in my back left pocket," Tweek answered without much hesitation.

"Tweekers, how are you going to try to act?" Butters shot at him, trying his best to pull a professional, serious face. It wasn't very convincing, to say the least.

"I will be... myself?" It was more of a question than an answer, but the champagne-haired blond smiled in approval.

"Where will Butters and I put the key after we leave?"

"T-taped under the mailbox... right?"

"How long is the movie?"

"An hour and f-fifteen minutes, I think."

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound very sure, twitchy."

"AUGH! I'm s-sorry! This just so much pressure! I-I'm going on my very first d-date with my very first b-boyfriend who I'm not even sure I want to actually date yet! What am I going to do if I d-decide that I don't want to be with him? Or, oh god, what if I decide I do want to be with him, but he gets bored with me and leaves the theatre? That would be way too much pressure, man! Jesus, what if-"

"Tweek?" Kenny's expression was worried, but his eyes were alive with humor. "You are going to be fantastic. I'm sure you'll find you really like him, and everything will work out just fine. Besides, who could resist a lovable little spaz like you?" Butters took his hand on his left and Kenny patted his shoulder on his right. The eccentric blond felt much better with his friends listening to and comforting him.

"O-okay."

"Okay what, Tweek?"

"Maybe I c-can do this after all. Yeah... y-yeah, I can do this." Tweek's breath got slow (slow for him, at least. For anyone else it would be faster than normal.), and he managed to relax his shoulder and lean back into the couch a little further. "W-would you guys come with me?" Kenny laughed.

"No, Tweek. You're going to go with Craig, alone, and you are going to have a great time. You'll have much more fun without us, trust me."

"But-"

"No buts."

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading!


	4. Coda

**A/N:** Okay, this makes for the last of the Creek portion of Knots. I'll continue to update 5000-ish words every Sunday until all of it's posted here. If you see any errors, tell me!

* * *

Craig was at Tweek's house in almost no time at all, stopping along the street before getting out and crossing the miniature tundra that was Tweek's lawn. When he pressed the illuminated doorbell, he heard a screech and a scampering of what sounded like several pairs of feet from the inside. Eventually the door opened to reveal Tweek, dressed in a blue and green plaid button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore gray jeans that tumbled over his black and white shoes. Craig had to do a double-take when he saw a pink and white clip holding back a lock of his hair, but he quickly deemed it 'cute'.

Craig slipped an arm around the smaller boy's waist as they walked to the raven-haired student's car, opening the door for him when they reached it. In all honesty, Tweek was unsure of whether to trust the dark haired boy's driving at first, but he quickly earned the paranoid boy's trust.

"Alright, Tweek. What movie do you want to see?"

"U-um... anything not too freaky is fine by me. Did you have anything in mind?"

"I was thinking we should go see that one about the one chick who's always the bridesmaid in all her friend's weddings, but never gets married. What's it called? It's..."

"T-twenty seven Dresses?"

"That's it. Is that too fruity for you?"

"N-not at all! Butters always takes me to romantic chick-flicks like- NGH- that one, and I always end up liking them." Craig smiled, relieved. It took them ten minutes and two conversations until they pulled up into the movie theatre parking lot.

As they walked from the snowy, chilly parking lot into the warm building, Craig's arm found its way around Tweek's waist again. A foreign fluttering filled Tweek's stomach, stretching all the way from his belly button to the very top of his ribcage. It was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. In a strange way, he actually enjoyed it.

"Two, please." Tweek watched in horror as Craig payed for both tickets.

"C-Craig, I have my own money, it's okay..."

"No, no," he replied, leading his boyfriend past the ticket seller. "I want to pay for you. I asked you on this date, so I'll take care of you." Craig's logic confused Tweek, but the dark-haired male seemed to find it completely logical.

"Well... then you have to let me buy you snacks. I have l-leftover money now." Craig refused, but the blond walked the two of them over to the concessions counter anyway. "What do you want, Craig?"

"To pay for you, Tweekers," he said.

"I mean from the menu. P-please let me get you something, I'm going to feel guilty otherwise." After a little more refusals, the blue-eyed male said that 'a coke would be just fine'.

"I'm going to pay you back though, I hope you realize that." Tweek merely shook his head.

"Two cokes and a m-medium popcorn, please." He handed the money across the counter and handed one of the drinks to the tall boy standing behind him. Since both of the blond's hands were occupied, he linked his arm through his boyfriends as they walked to the theatre. _Maybe I really can do this,_ Tweek thought. _It's coming almost... naturally or something. _Tweek almost didn't mind the two or three confused and judgemental starts shot his way. They eventually reached the theatre, and Craig stepped forward quickly to hold open the door for him. The sandy-eyed boy hurried inside, ducking his head in a happy sort of embarrassment.

After a few moments of decision, debate, and Craig trying his very best to convince the neurotic boy that, no, 'this movie is not scary, we don't need to sit in the back', the two found a pair of seats near the middle of the theatre, sitting far from anyone else. Not that it was very hard to do- the theatre had only a handful of other people inside.

"S-so," Tweek started, trying his best to strike up a conversation, "We're pretty close to being done with the piece, huh? Only a- NGH- couple more lines and we're done."

"You're right, we can probably get it done Monday morning if we tried hard enough. Or even sooner, if you want to come over to my house after this. We can work on it some more then."

A smile grazed Tweek's lisps. "Y-yeah. That would be nice. Will your parents mind?"

For a moment Craig looked almost worried, his eyebrows pulled upward, the light from the flashing previews in front of them illuminating his face. He looked as if he had thought about a sad or painful memory, his eyes darkening. He wiped the expression from his face quickly. "No. No, I don't think they will." He paused for a bit, bringing his eyes back from the screen in front of them and looking at Tweek. "But hey, let's talk about something different. You're my boyfriend, but I don't really know a whole lot about you."

Tweek was still curious and suspicious, but he responded anyway. "T-there isn't really that much to know..."

"Not true. I don't know your favorite color, or if you had any pets, your favorite season, I don't know any of that fruity stuff."

"You really want to know?" He asked, not believing the black-haired male. Craig nodded in response. "W-well... my favorite color is blue... not like the normal blue. But l-like... Like a crystal blue. One that's really light and clear. Um... I never really had any pets, and I guess my favorite season is fall. I need to- AUGH- go to middle park if I ever want to see it since it's pretty much always winter here, b-but the coffee is extra good that time of year."

Tweek was surprised when Craig actually seemed interested. Like he actually wanted to hear about the little details of the small blond boy's life. His pale eyes were fixed curiously at Tweek's, almost staring. He nodded while the blond talked, smiling softly and leaning slightly inward. For a moment Tweek was at a loss for words, but manged to choke out "NGH! What about you?"

"Let's see," Craig said, looking down and biting the inside of his lip slightly in thought. "I guess my favorite color would be a forest green color. I had one pet; a guinea pig named Stripe. He was white, except for a long brown stripe that went from between his eyes to his tail. He died a couple years ago... but I still love and miss the little guy. If I had to choose a favorite season I would probably choose winter, I don't mind the cold all that much. Lucky me for living in South Park, huh?"

Tweek smiled, glad that Craig could properly hold a conversation. He wasn't too good at holding up his end in a normal chat, so Craig's eloquence was a blessing to him. Every part of speech was awkward for him; he always felt the other person wasn't listening or was judging him, making him more nervous and antsy. His hands would tremble and he would blush, and soon enough Tweek would be saying something dumb or incohesive. Thankfully, Craig seemed to know how to speak properly and keep a conversation rolling without making the blond feel out of place or uncomfortable.

"Alright," Craig said, "Three random facts."

Surprised, Tweek pulled whatever he could off the top of his head. "I have a-at least three cups of coffee a day, lawn gnomes freak me out, and I never really liked the way my hair looks."

"Really? I think it's gorgeous all the time," Craig said, lifting a hand to flirt with a couple locks of the feathery hair. He caught himself and withdrew his hand soon after though, trying not to come on too strong to the thin boy. He knew that if he wasn't careful, Tweek might freak out and try to run away, and probably ruin his chances of getting the thin male to truly date him. "My turn then, I suppose. I'm really, really good at catching food in my mouth, whenever someone says they think classical music is dumb I feel a little offended, and I hated being on the football team."

"Y-you were on the football team?"

"Sure was. Mom made my try out and wouldn't let me quit when I made it."

"NGH! Now that I think about it, I th-think I remember seeing you out there at games."

The two continued to talk, twitchy hands waving about in the air to emphasize points or heads tilting back and mouths widening to laugh. They spoke as if they had been best friends for years, not as if they had known each other for hardly a month. After several more previews and comfortable conversations, the lights dimmed and the movie started, the audience quieting. Occasionally Tweek would toss Craig a piece of popcorn and he would catch it without fail in his mouth, the black haired boy demonstrating his talent for the edgy male. Tweek threw it over their heads, up high in the air, straight at Craig, if Tweek threw it, he would be able to get it. Throughout the movie the two managed to inch unconsciously closer to each other until the fabrics of their shirts were nearly brushing together. Eventually Craig took a chance, reaching over and slipping his hand inside Tweek's. His thumb rubbed soothing circles over the coffee lover's knuckles, fingers moving occasionally to play with Tweek's. Both had trouble paying attention to the movie then, instead focusing on the feel of another hand in their own. All too soon the movie was over and the lights rose, but the two sat until the credits ended, when they had no other excuse to keep seated and holding hands.

"How did you like it?"

"I liked it a- NGH- a lot. I felt sorry for K-Kevin though."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"He kept trying so hard to make Jane like him, and she kept rejecting him so harshly."

"It worked out though," Craig said, standing and offering a hand to help Tweek up. He accepted it. The two quickly made their way out of the theater and into the crisp night air. The snow was falling and occasionally catching the light seeping from the glass doors of the building. A handful of stars were managing to peek out from behind the soft cloud cover, twinkling down at them. Tweek took a deep breath of the freezing air, inhaling its deep scent of pine. As he released it, it clouded around his mouth from the cold, eventually disappearing into the snowy winter air. The small blond tugged Craig's hand over to his own, lacing their fingers together. Their hands were warm despite the frigid temperatures around them. Hand in hand, they walked to the aquamarine eyed male's car, Craig once again walking over to Tweek's side first to hold the door for him.

Tweek took sneaky glances over at his dark-haired boyfriend throughout the ride, watching as the overhead streetlights cast beautiful shadows and light over the boy's smooth, pale skin. The falling snowflakes created round, sinking shadows on his shoulders and cheeks, trailing down his features. He watched as a bright light poured through the windshield and traced over Craig's legs, a paler light following and traveling more slowly over the dark jean fabric. In the darkness of the car, Tweek could only make out what the blotted light from street lamps gave, the rest just black shadows outlined by thin white halos.

Sooner or later they pulled into the black haired male's driveway, stepping out of the warm car and into the night, hurrying inside the house. They entered Craig's living room, and Tweek looked to the left to see a beautiful black piano with some couches and chairs facing towards it. Scattered on the music rack and over the top of the black surface were numerous thin, tall books and slips of paper. Tweek could hear the clinking and running water of someone washing dishes. Sure enough, a woman with blond hair tumbling down to her shoulders stepped into view.

"Craig! Welcome home," She said, her voice slightly nasally. It matched Craig's, but an octave higher.

"Thanks, Mom."

"And who is this?" Craig's mother inquired, brandishing a cup in Tweek's direction.

"This is my friend Tweek, Mom. Do you mind if he stays for a bit? We're working on a piece of music."

"Not at all. He is... just a friend, right?" The woman kept her eyes on Craig, but lowered her head and raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, Mom." Tweek turned his head and gave him a questioning look, but Craig kept his eyes on his mother, refusing to look at him.

"Well then. It's a pleasure to meet you, Tweek," She said, sounding much more polite than she did before. She gave a little wave and disappeared back into the kitchen, the sound of running water starting again.

"Sorry, Tweek," Craig whispered into his boyfriend's ear. "I'll explain later. Let's get started." The pianist walked over to the slick black bench set at the foot of the black and white keys, gracefully taking a seat. Since there were no chairs that could be dragged easily over to the piano, he sat down next to the onyx haired male. He pulled a sheet of paper that was tucked behind a couple pages of a book, setting it at the front of the chaotic pile. Tweek closed his eyes, listening carefully to the beautiful music. He occasionally felt Craig's arm brush his own, but he tried his best to focus anyway. He felt his face blush with the close proximity of Craig, surprised at how ridiculously small the piano bench was. When the musician stopped, Tweek picked up where he left off, humming the first few notes of the next bar until Craig played it correctly two or three times and transferred it onto the sheet, the silence filled by the scratching of the pencil on the paper. He replayed the line, setting Tweek up to sing the next bar, and so on. Hours passed, the two following this numb pattern. Soon enough they were down to the very last line.

As Tweek hummed out the melody, he felt an unbelievable surge of sadness wash over him. The paranoid blond just barely kept himself composed as he sang for Craig and listened to the tune be sung back at him. It seemed like both the boys felt it. Tweek began to sing softer and slower, and Craig began to do the same. When Craig had copied down the very last measure, the dynamics, style, tone all written in carefully and precisely, he took a breath as if he was about to say something. The musician could tell the piece was over even without Tweek's confirmation. Instead, he closed his lips and went back to the beginning and played it all again. Thin lids fell over tired hazelnut eyes, and Tweek leaned over to rest his head on Craig's shoulder. When he reached the ending he did the same thing, going back to the top and playing it again. And then again. By the third time around he had caught control of himself and willed his fingers away from the keys. The silence in the room was painful until Craig found his voice.

"That's the end of it, isn't it?"

The two sat in silence before Tweek drew in a melancholy breath and responded simply, "Y-yeah." Craig reached over and wrapped an arm around the short boy's shoulders, gently gripping Tweek's upper right arm. Softly and sleepily, Tweek whispered, "Thank you, Craig."

The ocean-eyed football player seemed to figure out that his neurotic blond was getting tired, and began to rub his arm, trying to keep him awake. "I should take you home, Tweek. It's late, and I don't want to have to carry you if you fall asleep. You probably weigh as much as a laundry basket either way, but still."

"I'm not... I'm not falling asleep," he defended weakly and unconvincingly. It was well past midnight, and the neighbor's lights had long since gone out. Craig managed to wake Tweek up enough to get him standing, but he didn't have to do much work when they got outside. Apparently the boy forgot that it was winter, and when a gust of freezing air slipped into the house when Craig held the door open for him, he was shocked into consciousness. Groaning, Tweek stumbled half-heartedly into the porch light, rubbing at his tired eyes. They trudged through the snow that soaked through their jeans and froze their toes through their shoes, collapsing into Craig's boxy car. The leather was just as cold as the air outside, the pair wincing at the inevitably freezing temperatures.

Craig started up the car, headlights flickering on and seat warmers doing their best to get working. Tweek felt that the silence between the two was comfortable and friendly, but apparently Craig didn't.

"I'm sorry for what I said back there." The coffee lover opened one eye, and then two and looked over at Craig in confusion. "About calling you just my friend."

"O-oh... No, it's- NGH- okay, don't worry about it." Tweek brought his hands together, thumbs picking at each other. "C-can I ask why you said it though?" Craig sighed, face illuminated by a red stoplight, and he rubbed at his face.

"It's... it's a long story, but the most I can tell you is that a long time ago, something happened with one of my friends and she became... pretty homophobic, to say the least. That really sucks, with me liking guys and all. So I either just try not to talk about my romantic feelings or that kind of stuff around her. It gets difficult sometimes, but it's livable. If she wasn't so horribly homophobic I would have told her we're dating, but if I had she probably would have thrown both of us out of the house," Craig made his last line sound like a joke, but something in his stunningly blue eyes said that it wasn't. Tweek watched as the light resting on his face turned green and the car lurched forward.

"Craig, I'm not going to f-force you to tell your mom we're dating. I don't need her approval to be happy with you, so d-don't worry about it." On that note the couple reached Tweek's warm looking house, an almost sad silence washing over them.

"T-thank you for taking me to the movie and helping me finish the- AUGH- song. I really had fun with you."

Craig smiled sincerely. "No, Tweek. Thank you." He paused, studying Tweek's hazelnut eyes carefully and lovingly before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to thee blond's soft, porcelain skin. The two blushed, and smiling sweetly, Tweek soon stepped out from Craig's car.

When he reached the door he checked his right pocked for his key, and then his left. When that failed, he looked in his back pockets. sufficiently frightened by this point, the paranoid boy patted himself down, searching for the shiny silver key. Eventually his eyes fell on the mailbox, and remembered Kenny told him he would put it under there. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he swiftly unlocked the door and slipped inside, sighing dreamily at the feeling of being home.

Tweek felt like all his motions were underwater as he changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth, and slipped under the puffy duvet on his bed. He turned on his side, silky hair spilling out onto his pillow as he looked out the window. Snow was still falling, but more stars were visible now. The moon was smiling down at him, casting a sleepily sullen white glow over his face. It didn't take long for sleep to claim him.

Hot breath escaped from his lungs as his bare feet pounded against razor-sharp blades of grass, propelling him forward faster than ever. The crooning of the piano was the loudest it had ever been, calling him to run faster, faster, faster. The crystal trees were but blurs as he sprinted by, leaving the tall, glossy plants behind. He knew he was close. He could almost feel the great grin on his face. This was it. Tweek hung close to the edge of a tree as he turned around it, fingers grazing the smooth surface of its trunk. And... there it was. There they were. Standing in a clearing were Butters, Kenny, Clyde, and Craig. Finally coming to a stop, Tweek let his tired eyes scan lovingly over his friends, he felt at peace at long last. Running once more, the hazel-eyed boy jumped into their arms, holding them tight.

He had finally found it.

* * *

**A/N:** For those who have stuck with me, thank you _so_ much for reading thus far. I don't really like the ending of this segment, I think it's kinda cheesy, so I'm sorry for that. I'm hoping that getting this written and out there will make me a better writer. Welp, I hope you enjoyed the Creek part of Knots. The next part will have some Style with some Staig and a teensy bit of Stendy and Bendy.


	5. De Capo

**A/N:** Welcome to the second part of Knots, yay! I forgot to say this earlier- the first three sections (not chapters) of this are all set so they're all happening at around the same time, or at least overlapping at times. I've set the first three parts in their junior year of high school. This part is set a little after Craig and Tweek have gotten together.

I've gone back and edited all the chapters before this, and I'm going to be editing chapters before posting them on here now, so what you'll be reading isn't raw like it was before. Yay again!

* * *

_"This isn't working anymore." Eyes were fixed on the ground, a mixture of pure pain and sadness glazing over them. Jet-black hair shadowed over pale skin, brushing dark lashes. "If we keep going on like this, I'm pretty sure my mom's going to disown me." Shaky breaths were inhaled, and he continued, "I don't want to do this, trust me. But if I don't..." a lanky arm reached up to rub at eyes squeezed shut, trying to hide any trace of tears. "I can't hurt you any more."_

"No!" Stan sat up quickly, heart racing with a painful sadness. Instead of looking into the face of the beautiful dark-haired boy he once knew as his boyfriend, his eyes lied on his blanket-covered feet. He groaned, hand rising to squeeze at the bride of his nose in attempt to chase away the dream. After taking time to rub at his face in a futile attempt to join the conscious world, shoving the sheets from his tall body. Sighing and running a hand through his raven black hair, Stan shut his bedroom door behind him, stumbling sleepily to the fridge and pulling out a large carton of orange juice.

The blue-eyed boy sloppily poured himself a glass of the tangy drink, not caring when a bit of the juice splashed over the side of the cup. He took baby-sized sips from it as he gathered his books and threw them into his backpack, whether he needed them or not.

_"No... no, we can still do this. Nobody has to know about this, just you and me. Your mom would never know, we'd be 'just friends' to her. Please, don't do this to me, please." Stan grabbed the pianist's thin hands, holding them tight. He stared intensely into the aquamarine eyes that reflected his own._

_"I'm so sorry, Stan. You know how she is. If we keep this up she might actually throw me out of the house this time." Stan understood, but he wished with everything he had that this wasn't happening. "I'm so, so sorry..." Craig leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. The boys' eyes closed, trying their hardest to burn this memory into their minds, clinging to their last moments like this._

Stan restrained himself from tearing out his hair in frustration. His actions became angrier- tearing into the piece of bread like an animal, brushing his teeth so mercilessly his gums bled, struggling with getting the key into the ignition when he reached his car. The ocean-eyed male sat back in the scratchy seat, trying his best to compose himself. Instead, the dream just came back.

_Fingers laced together, hands and bodies cold despite their closeness. Neither wanted to believe that this would probably be the last time they held each other like this. Un-knotting their fingers, Craig slipped his arms underneath Stan's, tugging on his waist and pulling him close. Stan lifted one arm to wrap around the musician's strong shoulders, the other to tangle in the boy's smooth ebony hair. He felt the other male press a bittersweet kiss above his ear, both trying their best not to let any tears escape from their eyes._

"Fuck!" Stan pounded his fists against the steering wheel, making the silver car shout out a high pitched beep. "How come I never remember any dreams except for the ones about _him_!" Breathing deep, Stan calmed himself, turning on his car and backing out of the icy driveway. He rounded only a few corners before reaching his boyfriend's house, pulling to a stop and about to get out when Stan saw him walk out of his house.

When Kyle had gotten into Stan's car, snowflakes had quickly accumulated in his hair and on his shoulders, melting slowly in the only partially warm car. The redhead smiled sweetly, asking how Stan's morning was, how he slept, what he had for breakfast. Each answer he got was short and snappy, usually one word sentences. Stan's blue eyes were fixed on the road in front of them, not daring to pull away and look at Kyle. Instead of being his normally warm and friendly, talkative self, Stan pretended to be extra interested with the bumper of the car in front of them.

"Dude, are you okay? You're not acting like yourself," he said, his emerald eyes flickering with worry. He placed his hand over Stan's as the boy reached for the stick shift. With this slight touch Stan seemed to be defeated, his shoulders slumped, his tiredness showing clearly through his expression and uncharacteristically dull eyes.

"Yeah... yeah, I just had a dream about Craig last night." His back hit the seat in exhaustion, eyes shutting. "I'm really sorry I keep talking about him, but I just..."

"I know, and it's okay. I want you to feel free to talk about him as much as you want, say anything and everything you want to. That's what I'm here for." He squeezed the raven-haired boy's hand affectionately, trying his best to comfort his boyfriend. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Stan shook his head, clutching the wheel tightly and re-focusing on the concrete. "Come on. Let's go to school." Snowflakes splattered on the windshield and were pushed half-heartedly away by the windshield wipers, making two rivers of melted flakes on either side of the glass window. Trying his best to create conversation, Stan asked Kyle about the homework from the previous night. Of course, the straight A student had done it, and in a much shorter amount of time it had taken Stan, too.

Kyle was skilled at almost anything. Whatever he tried he was good at. Math, science, art, sports, music, if you gave him a few minutes to figure it out, he would be an expert within moments. At times it was overwhelming to Stan, being with such a talented, smart, not to mention kind and gorgeous boy. He was extremely grateful for his boyfriend and best friend, since he not only helped him with homework and made him feel much more special than he actually was, but he also helped (or rather, was in the process of helping) Stan get over the ghosts of his past relationships.

Craig and Stan might have been able to have a fantastic relationship, but the pianist's strongly homophobic mother forced the two to break up after she found out from an 'anonymous source' that the two were together. Wendy, however, left of her own accord. Wendy was a different story.

And, speak of the devil, Stan's first thing he saw as he stepped into the cracked parking lot of South Park high was shiny, beautiful, pin straight black hair. Stan would never admit it, but he was still in love with the political, intelligent girl. His heart still pounded in the gorgeous girl's presence, at her sweet, gentle voice, at the feeling of her warm, purple gaze.

But there was one big problem.

One big, blond, busty, equally beautiful problem, and her name was Bebe Stevens.

The light-haired girl looked reluctant, almost embarrassed as Wendy tried to hold her hand. Her eyes were lowered to the ground, refusing to even look the dark-haired girl in the eyes. Stan felt a jealous, angry twinge in his heart that was broken by the feel of Kyle taking his arm.

"C'mon, Stan. Let's go." Sympathy and exhaustion showed in his eyes as he led Stan down the same way Wendy and Bebe went, shuffling down the sidewalk, the salt crunching and grinding beneath his feet. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two males, the feeling growing stronger and stronger the longer the silence lasted.

"You know I love you, right?" Kyle asked, looking at Stan from the corner of his eye.

"...Wait, what?"

"I love you. I don't want this whole Wendy and Bebe thing to get you down, okay? I'm worried you're not talking about it enough. You know I'm here so you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just... I dunno. I just don't want to talk about it right now. I just wish that..." Stan stopped to tangle a hand in his hair, rubbing his head furiously. Kyle slowed down and eventually came to a complete stop, listening carefully to Stan.

"Go on," he said when the raven-haired male didn't say anything more.

"I just wish that Bebe would at least pretend to like Wendy back. Wendy left me for someone who doesn't even like her the same way, do you know how much that hurts? You saw what Bebe did back there... She was hardly even holding Wendy's hand. They're together now apparently, so the least she can do is just humor Wendy at least. I just..." Stan stopped, squeezing the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut. "I just don't get it. I feel so, so bad for Wendy, but at the same time I can't get over how she hurt me. Like, do you... do you understand?"

Kyle stood still, lacing their fingers together and staring at the snowy concrete between their shoes. He looked up at Stan, the snowflakes on his light eyelashes trembling. "Let's skip school. Come over to my house."

Stan's eyes widened in shock, leaning back in the slightest bit at Kyle's out of character suggestion. "You want to ditch?"

"Yeah. My parents are out, Garrison's probably just going to talk about Justin Bieber or whoever his latest celebrity crush is all day, it's Friday either way, and you need to vent. Let's go." The redheaded boy did have a point, juvenile as it was. Biting his lip, Stan nodded, pressing a thankful kiss to Kyle's pale cheek. The two turned and walked the other way, hand in hand. The ebony-haired male was clutching Kyle's just a little too tight, but he didn't say anything.

When they neared Stan's car, Kyle made his way to the right side. "I think I should drive, you'll probably get us into a wreck if you do." Sighing, Stan tossed the thin boy his keys with no fight. He lazily threw his bag in the back seat after he crawled into the passenger side. He let his eyelids slip over his blue eyes, leaning his head back and trying not to let himself break down. At least, not until they got to Kyle's house. Almost nothing had changed since they were kids. The two-story house still had the same sad, gray-green paint, the same flat facade, the same boxy, four-pane windows. The only real change was the window box of well-cared for, thriving hellebore flowers. Stan had given them to Kyle, saying that the beautiful bright green and white color reminded him of Kyle's eyes.

"Stan? We're here." Kyle jostled his shoulder, waking the boy who was slowly drifting to sleep. Stan rubbed at one of his eyes before reaching into the back seat to grab his backpack. Sleepily he stumbled from the automobile, using all of his strength to sling the pack over his shoulder. Kyle unlocked the wooden door for him, letting the black-haired boy enter first. Stan immediately walked over to the couch, tossing his bag to the side and collapsing on the plushy surface. The nightmare he had last night had him wake up already tired.

Kyle stopped in front of him, placing a hand on his forehead to check for a fever, just in case, and then moving it to rub at his shoulder affectionately with his thumb. "Want anything?"

"Water please," was the mumbled answer he got after a pause. After a couple of quiet moments of Kyle massaging his shoulder, the redhead patted his strong arm and strolled into the kitchen. The soft sound of Kyle getting water and ice from the refrigerator only made him sleepier, but he forced himself to stay awake, if even in the slightest. Kyle soon returned, placing the glass down on a coaster with a soft clinking noise. He sat down at Stan's crown, but moved so that Stan could rest his head in his lap when the head of black hair lifted. Kyle slung an arm over the back of the couch, the other occupied with adjusting and stroking the head of soft hair.

"Okay. Stan, I want you to tell me everything. ...Stan, are you awake?" The jock replied with a soft, tired grunt, nodding his head slowly. He sat up to take a drink from the cold, tall glass Kyle had set on the table, and leaned back down onto Kyle's lap, eyes now open.

"Uh... what do you want me to say?"

"Everything. From Wendy to Craig, I want to hear everything."

"Well... shit," he said, breathing deep and heavy eyes trying not to close. "I don't know where to start."

"Just wherever. I just want you to be able to vent, and I want to know about you so I can help you."

Stan sighed, lifting a hand to adjust his shirt and tug at a few strands of hair. "Alright. Let's see. Wendy and I have been an on off thing since third grade, but you already knew that. I always wondered why she would break up with me so often and then get back together again, but I never really figured it out until about a year or two ago, I guess. She would come up with all these ridiculous reasons to break up with me; I wasn't political enough, I didn't comment on her haircut, I never talked enough to her... shit like that. Her and Bebe have been friends since like, forever, and I was totally cool with that. They kind of got mad at each other for a while that one time in the fourth grade- remember, when they made a list of all the cutest boys? But I'm pretty sure they were pretty tight besides that one time.

"Wendy was really, really cool. She almost never freaked out when I got nervous and barfed all over her, she was- _is_- smart, super talented, really kind and friendly, super pretty... you get the picture. It was no surprise that she's still one of the most popular girls in the grade. Maybe even in the whole school. You get the point. But in like, freshman year she got... I dunno, distant, I guess. She didn't want to hang out as much, she was always 'busy', or had too much work... Which made sense though, she was student council president and had all these honors classes and stuff. But she was avoiding me even when she didn't have any work to do or anywhere to go. All she wanted to do was hang out with Bebe.

"After a while I figured it out. She was giving Bebe that look that she used to give me. She would stare at her during class, when they walked down the halls together, every time she was around Bebe, Wendy would totally blow me off to be around her. It was pretty obvious to me that Wendy was crushing on her, but I figured it would come to pass. But... well, it didn't.

"Beginning of sophomore year she broke up with me. She didn't even tell me why this time, but she didn't need to. I knew. Next thing I heard was that she asked out Bebe, and that Bebe freaked out. That sucked. I was actually pretty mad at myself for feeling sorry for her when she dumped me so easily, but I couldn't help it. I'm sure it really, really sucked for her. Now they're 'together', but Bebe can hardly bring herself to look at Wendy. I'm sure Wendy's trying really hard to get Bebe comfortable, but Bebe's acting really nervous and shy around her all of a sudden. Like they hadn't been friends for the seventeen years before this whole thing, like they were complete strangers or something. And you know, it sucks pretty fat balls to be dumped by your girlfriend for her best friend who doesn't even seem to like her the same way."

By the time Stan finished, hot tears were running from his eyes, down his temples and dripping onto Kyle's jeans, his voice sounding strained and broken. The raven-haired boy was biting his bottom lip, clearly trying to get himself to stop, to no avail.

"Well... fuck, dude. You never told me _that_." Kyle took his thumb to wipe a couple tears from Stan's deep blue eyes, drying it off on his pants. "And you knew about this before she broke up with you? How long did you know?"

"I dunno, dude... Around December of ninth grade, I guess. She started getting all 'busy' around the summer before that year."

"And you stayed with her even though you knew?"

"Yeah. For a little over eight more months."

The best apology Kyle could give was a kiss to the muscular boy's forehead, which he did without hesitation. "I'm so, so sorry, Stan." He knew he shouldn't force the boy to tell him any more, but he had to hear it. Stan had to let it all out, and Kyle needed to know the whole story so that he could help him. "Stan?"

"Yeah?" His eyes were fixed on the soft plush surface to his left, avoiding eye contact with Kyle. Stan's black eyebrows were furrowed, as if it would make the tears stop.

"Do you think you could... could you tell me about what happened with Craig, too?"

Stan didn't respond, he merely continued to stare at the back of Kyle's couch, one finger rubbing the surface. The only sound in the room was the quiet breathing from the couple and the muffled noise of shifting fabric. Kyle thought his boyfriend may never speak again until the raven-haired boy began to sit up, moving himself closer to Kyle so their knees were almost touching. After a pause he made a move to take the redhead's hand, taking it and placing it on his thigh, playing with Kyle's fingers as a distraction.

"Do you remember back when we were little? When Craig was all cold and in his own world? When it used to be that Craig's group and ours never got along because they were so far away and harsh?" Kyle nodded. "I loved that about Craig. I thought how dark and icy he seemed was almost... attractive. When Wendy became distant, it was nothing like his though. Craig's distance was interesting, Wendy's was just... hurtful.

"Anyway, so I was really little when I first started liking him. I think he might have been the first guy I fell for. Of course, at the time I had no idea that I liked guys, I figured it out much later. I think we were in fourth grade when Garrison assigned us to sit next to each other. I remember he had just answered a question when I really looked him over and thought something around the lines of 'Wow, he's really cute'. I caught myself and told myself that I was acting stupid, that I shouldn't feel that way about other guys, but I did. As far as I know, that was the start of my crush on him.

"I kept refusing that I liked him, but it got harder and harder to deny. I guess I was using Wendy as much as she used me. We never said it, but it was kind of like Wendy and I were each other's cover. She used me to cover for the fact that she liked Bebe, and I used her to cover up that I liked Craig. God, now I'm rambling. Anyway, it was around middle school that it really got difficult to deny that I was crushing on Craig. It was around then that everyone started to understand what the words 'gay' and 'lesbian' really meant, and could then properly tease someone for being homos.

"I ignored everyone and asked him out... sometime around mid-sophomore year, I think around December or January. I still have the exact date written down somewhere, but I remember mostly because I thought he looked so good in the snow, with the snowflakes on his eyelashes. It was just after football practice had gotten out, and he just looked so... gorgeous with the sun setting behind him and his breath clouding..." Stan stopped and had to laugh. "I'm sorry, that just sounded really, really gay. Forget I ever said that.

"Anyway, he was really reluctant to be with me though. I asked him if he liked me almost all the time back then. He would always say that he did, but he seemed scared about something all the time. Craig would refuse to hold hands or be affectionate with me unless we were alone or nobody would be able to see us. When we were at my house he was surprisingly cuddly and sweet. He would kiss me, hold my hand, hold me... It was the best. But when we were at his house, he would hardly act like a boyfriend at all. We did everything that normal friends did- besides talking about girls. We lasted for a little over a year. Until his mom found out." The raven-haired boy stopped talking for a moment, just staring at the way his fingers were tangled with Kyle's.

"You don't have to go on if you don't want to, it's okay," Kyle said, tightening his grip on Stan's hand.

"No... no, it's okay. I'm okay. His mom found out... I was over there when she came into Craig's room, where we were. We weren't doing anything, just working on homework together. She didn't say anything for a while, but after a while she said that she had been told by 'an outside, anonymous source' that we were 'more than just friends'. Craig never told me why he was never affectionate in his house, but I had figured out why after a while. And I could tell that this was bad. Craig had me leave so he could talk to his mom about it. I couldn't sleep all night.

"The next day he came over to my house. He didn't come in, even though I invited him in more than once. He broke up with me, saying that his mom was going to kick him out if he didn't. I tried to convince him that she wouldn't have to know about us, but it didn't work. So we went our separate ways. In fact, I almost felt like we were pretending that we were never in a relationship at all. We still talk and everything, but... it's just not the same. It feels like those almost two years of my life were a dream because we just never say anything about it anymore.

"And you know what sucks the most? Now I hear that Craig's apparently dating Tweek. How come the whole 'just friends' pretend thing won't work for us, but it works just fine for them? What made him decide that ignoring his mom's homophobia and just going for it was totally cool all of a sudden? Kyle, I was totally in love with Craig. I don't think Tweek could ever feel as strongly for him as I did, and I don't think Craig will love Tweek as much as he loved me either. I loved him so much, and he-"

Stan was cut off when Kyle grasped his hands tightly, leaning in close and pressing his lips to the raven haired boy's. Their thighs were pressed together, lips moving slowly and carefully together. Stan wrapped an arm around the Jewish boy's waist, the other wrapping around his shoulder and knotting his hand in his curly, cherry-red hair. Kyle pulled back for a moment from Stan, their breath mingling together. Stan leaned forward, pressing a softer kiss to Kyle's pink lips.

Leaning back all the way now, Kyle looked at Stan with what seemed to be sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't like listening to you tell me how much you loved another guy. It makes me..." He stopped, and Stan pulled his arms back and grabbed one of Kyle's hands.

"I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that." The raven-haired male placed a soft kiss to Kyle's forehead. "Forgive me?"

The thin, pale skinned male shot Stan a smile, a light blush across his face. "Yeah, I forgive you." His emerald green eyes rose to look into Stan's deep blue eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in what seemed to be thought. "Stan, maybe you should try talking to Wendy and Craig about this and not just me. Maybe you could actually solve something that way instead of just letting this whole thing haunt you."

Hurt flashed over Stan's face. "I-I... I couldn't. I'm too... I'm too scared."

"You won't even give it a chance? You should listen to their side of the story. Maybe something would work out, you never know. Tell them how you really feel, I'm sure _something _will change for the better."

Stan stood and turned away, grabbing his bag and making for the door. "Kyle, I can't. I just... I can't." He caught himself just before his hand made contact with the handle of his boyfriend's front door, turning and sighing when he laid eyes on Kyle. "I'm sorry, Kyle. I love you, and I don't want to hurt you. But I don't know if I'm ready to talk to them just yet. Please, please try to understand." Kyle nodded, not saying a word, but Stan wasn't quite sure Kyle had forgiven him yet. "...Sorry. I have to go."

With that, the raven-haired boy turned back to the door, his shaky hand turning the handle and stepping out into the freezing world outside. It was only nearing around noon, but all of a sudden he was exhausted, as if hadn't slept for weeks. Stan made his way to his car, sliding on the slippery walkway. It took him a few tries to start it, but he was eventually heading home. He was surprised he didn't get into any crashes- the entire drive seemed fuzzy and dream-like to him. By the time he got to his house he was practically asleep on his feet, hands stumbling to find the lock on his front door, not even caring to take off his shoes or coat when he got inside. Feet feeling like two sacks of sand, Stan stumbled up the staircase to his room, collapsing on his bed once he got inside. The moment his fuzzy head and wet shoes hit the mattress, he was out like a light.

The dreams, or rather, nightmares, wasted no time getting into his head.

_A small smile graced Craig's lips as he leaned forward, cupping Stan's chin and pressing his lips to the slightly shorter boy's. The fabric of Stan's bed shifted as Craig placed a hand over Stan's, rubbing his thumb over the other boy's knuckles. The light from the window to the left of the bed was tinted blue, shadows of raindrops dripping down the glass and distorting the light as it crawled over the couple's skin. Stan smiled into the kiss before pulling away, looking deep into Craig's startlingly beautiful gray-blue eyes. The way the light played with the pianist's hair and skin tone was breathtaking. His dark hair shimmered, shining differently all the time as the light from passing cars and streetlights was warped by the pouring rain. His skin was turned a soft ashen white, emphasizing his beautiful gray-blue eyes. When he blinked, his black lashes bent down to kiss his cheekbones. It was almost like Craig was some sort of angel._

_Stan was amazed that such a gorgeous person could ever love him, leaning forward to kiss him gratefully once more. He lifted his free hand to trail a finger down Craig's toned arm, taking time to memorize the way the soft t-shirt fabric, smooth skin and defined muscles felt under his finger. Craig leaned into the touch, smiling sleepily. It was moments like this that Stan loved the most._

_"Tell me it'll be like this forever."_

_Craig leaned forward, pressing his lips to Stan's softly before wrapping his arm around his hips and moving so their foreheads were together, the tips of their noses almost touching. "It'll be like this forever," he whispered, their breath mingling together. Stan could see the love in Craig's eyes as they looked at each other through their eyelashes, like they were the only two people in the world._

_But something changed._

_The light went out and flickered back on, now yellowish and glaring. All of a sudden the air was cold and suffocating, snow falling down around them. They stood outside Stan's house, the light from the porch casting shadows on the concrete sidewalk at their feet. Craig still had his forehead pressed against Stan's, but his eyes were shut tightly, tears escaping from between his eyelids. He moved to snake his arms around Stan's waist, leaning down to lean his head of ebony hair against Stan's shoulder. Stan wrapped his arms around Craig's neck, holding him tight. Sobs racked the tall male's body, and Stan felt hot tears hit his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he heard the blue-clad boy whisper shakily, still holding tight to Stan's sides. "I shouldn't be here, but I can't help it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."_

_"Craig... don't leave me, please. I'll never last without you." This only made Craig cry harder, Stan could practically hear him bite his lip, trying his best to make himself stop the tears. "Please, I love you so much. Stay with me. She'll never have to know, we'd be the only ones who knew anything about it...I'd never tell anyone- not Mom, not Kyle, not Kenny, I'd keep it all to myself. Just don't leave me." Stan shifted to lean the side of his head against Craig's, not wanting to let him go. Afraid to let him go._

_"I shouldn't be here, I can't be here," the gray-blue eyed male repeated over and over again, but still not moving from Stan's arms. He moved himself from the now wet shoulder, standing up straight to look at the slightly shorter boy in his grip. His eyes traveled all over Stan's face, tears still streaming down his face, the whites of his eyes now a sickly red and contrasting harshly with his stone gray irises. Snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes, reminding Stan of the day they first got together. After several breathless seconds, Craig leaned down again swiftly, desperately stealing kisses from the blue eyed boy before him. His salty, warm tears were getting onto Stan's cheeks, and eventually Stan began to tear up as well. They stood there in the night, clinging to each other as their seconds left together died and shrunk away._

Stan awoke to tears running over the bridge of his nose and down his cheek, accumulating on the bedsheets under his dark haired head. He lied there, unmoving, just listening to the maddening buzz of the sound of silence. Sighing, he forced himself to sit up, grabbing for his beaten-up cellphone. He checked the time, just after four, before punching seven numbers into the silver device. Stan fell back onto his bed, clutching at his racing heart, trying to calm himself down. He nearly hung up the phone out of sheer terror when that deep, gravelly voice answered, "Hello?"

"Craig... It's me, Stan. I need to talk to you."

* * *

**A/N:** Yay for the super long monologue in this chapter! I'm sure you loved reading that, haha. Thank you for reading, and see you next Sunday!


	6. Cheater, Cheater

**A/N: **Hi, everyone. I like this chapter because Stan does something bad, but there's a lot of talk in this one. Most of this story is talk, but oh well, haha. It's also extra long, but again, oh well.

Before I leave to let you read, I want to say thanks to one of my friends who might be looking at this right now. My girlfriend broke up with me on Friday because she 'found out she's straight', and she already has a boyfriend. I haven't exactly been taking care of myself or feeling too good, and she's been a huge help. So I want to say to her, thank you so much for making me feel better and actually taking time out of your day to comfort me and care for me. It means so much to me, I don't even think I can put it into words. Also, thank you for reading this, even though I know you're busy. Actually, that part about reading this could go out to anyone... So thanks to everyone who's read this far. Hope you enjoy.

You know the drill; if you see mistakes, tell me.

Oh, and, uh... This chapter gets kind of... well, I warned you, I'll say that much.

* * *

The next thing Stan knew, he was standing at the foot of Craig's door, waiting for someone to answer. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, trying his best to seem calm and collected. It was working, until he heard movement from behind the wooden door and saw it swing open. Standing in front of him was Craig himself, looking as beautiful as he did the day they left each other. The musician swung his head around, looking and listening for something, but when he didn't find it he stepped aside to let Stan in. Still not saying anything, Craig took hold of Stan's wrist, leading him to his room. Only when he shut the door behind him did he talk.

"Okay, Stan, you're here. What do you want to talk about?" Craig gestured to his desk chair, inviting Stan to sit. Wanting to stall, Stan accepted the invitation, sitting down in the black chair. He folded his hands in his lap, leaning backwards, trying not to seem nervous.

"I want to talk about what happened to us."

This seemed to startle Craig, his eyes widening in the smallest bit before he lifted a hand to run through his hair. Stan noticed he was missing his usual blue earflap cap. Trying to recollect himself, Craig walked heavily over to his bed, sitting on the edge of the soft sheets. "You want to talk about... what happened to us," he repeated, as if he didn't believe his ears.

"That's what I said."

"What do you mean, 'what happened to us,' Marsh? Lots of things 'happened to us'."

"You know what I mean. I want to know why we fell apart, Craig," he shot back, sounding much more confident than he actually was.

Craig huffed a sigh, muttering something along the lines of, "I was afraid of that," under his breath. "Stan, I just... Mom figured out, she forced us to break up. That's all there is to it. Go home." He looked away from Stan, trying to hide the pained expression on his face, but not succeeding.

Stan's heart clenched painfully, trying his best not to let it show. "There's more to it than that, Craig, and you know it. We were perfect, and we broke up. Now you're with another guy, even though you said that your _mother _wouldn't let it happen. We were in love, and-"

"Stan."

"You just threw it away. I know your mom didn't approve of us and everything, but if you and Tweek can be together than why couldn't we? What's so different all of a sudden? We could have gone so far-"

"_Stan_."

"And you know that. You were hardly affectionate, like, at all, but what we had was special. I loved you so much, and you loved me. We both know that. We can still work, we could have still worked if-"

"_Stan_!" Craig was clenching the jean fabric around his knees in frustration, his gray eyes flashing with what seemed to be both anger and hurt. "I know we could have worked, I know I... I loved you. But things just changed. Do you really think that my mom would believe us if all of a sudden we were totally cool with just being friends, acting like nothing happened? No matter how well we acted like we weren't together anymore she would still figure us out again _somehow_. Don't you get it? I loved you... I love you, but we both have boyfriends now. We shouldn't destroy that to try for something that probably wouldn't work out anyway."

"So it's true, you are dating Tweek..." Craig winced at his mistake. "Alright, it probably wouldn't have worked. But we could have pretended to hate each other, or not care about each other, or not even pay attention to each other in public. There has to be something that would've worked.

"Stan, it's too late now. If we wanted to save ourselves we should have had this conversation ages ago."

"I can't just let this go like that, Craig." The silence between the two was heart-wrenching, both just wanting to give in and cling to one another, but not letting themselves submit so easily.

"Stan, please, try to understand when I say that I love you more than anyone, but I just couldn't hurt you anymore. If we had stayed together I just would have hurt you more and more, and I couldn't let myself keep doing that. You know why I was never affectionate, you know."

"Why, because you were ashamed of me? Enlighten me, please!"

"Because my mom would have disowned me, don't you get it! I just-" Craig stopped himself, leaning back and lifting a hand to rub at his cheeks, trying to compose himself. "What do you want me to do, Stan? It's not like we can go back in time and change things. What happened has happened, it is how it is. I'm... I'm sorry."

"...I'm sorry too," Stan replied after a silent moment. "Craig, did you really love me?" Again, the blue eyed boy caught the pianist off guard. He sighed sadly.

"Like you couldn't even imagine." Stan stared at his hung head, studying how his eyes, framed by thick, beautiful lashes, were fixed on his shoes. Before he knew it, his legs were on either side of Craig's, his hands placed on the dark-haired boy's strong shoulders. He had no time to catch himself before he was kissing Craig, unable to hold himself back. The musician lifted strong, thin hands to push half-heartedly at Stan's chest.

"Dude, don't. We have boyfriends, stop."

"Just once more. Just once more and I'll be satisfied, that's all I need," Stan said, moving from Craig's lips to his neck, kissing softly there. Craig could have pushed the blue-eyed boy off without a problem; they were both strong, but Craig just slightly more so. Even still, the pianist sat and accepted Stan's affection without much refusal.

"We can't do this, Stan. My mom's home, she might come in any second."

"We'll hear her coming."

"Stan, don't." Craig was protesting with his mouth, but his body language said something completely different. His strong, toned frame was leaning forward, eyes flickering between Stan's pink lips and his deep blue eyes. Before they knew it they were kissing again, Craig still pushing weakly at his ex-boyfriend's chest, but leaning deeply into Stan at the same time. The aquamarine eyed boy inched forward, pushing down on Craig's shoulders so that the pianist's back was pressed against the bed. Stan placed gentle butterfly kisses to his cheeks and nose, one hand trailing up his neck to his ebony hair. As his lips grazed over Craig's skin he ran his hands through the black locks, surprised at the sadness that filled him at the still-familiar sensation. A mixture of pain, relief, desire, regret and lust began to fill the two boys as their lips moved together.

Craig's arms moved from Stan's ribs to the small curves at his waist, pulling and pushing at the raven-haired boy so they flipped over. Craig was now straddling the football player's hips, hands planted on either side of Stan's head. Thoughts of his mother finding the two of them, betraying their boyfriends and all other worries were brushed aside, replaced by pure craving for Stan.

"We really... shouldn't be... doing this," Craig said between kisses, still trying to deny that he still wanted Stan and trying to defend himself. Again, his voice contrasted with his body, his eyes fluttered closed and his lips practically devouring Stan's. The ocean blue eyed boy reached up, tangling his fingers needily in Craig's blue hoodie, the soft fabric crowding in his hand. After moments of adrenaline-sparking, on-edge affection, Stan began to search blindly for the zipper of Craig's jacket, finding it after several tries. He wrenched down the zipper when he found it, revealing a black t-shirt underneath.

One of Stan's pale hand slipped underneath, feeling Craig's strong abdominal muscles. Craig flinched slightly at Stan's cold fingers on his warm chest, but found himself pressing into the touch anyway. Craig began to force himself to slow down, eventually pulling away from Stan's finger and making himself kiss the blue-eyed male not as ravishingly, transforming their desperate, sloppy kisses into gentler, more careful ones. After a while he removed himself from Stan's lips entirely, still hovering over him but merely staring into his eyes now. Sadness was hinted in his stone-gray eyes as Craig looked at Stan, moving his hands to cup either side of Stan's head, fingers flirting in his black hair. Craig leaned down once more for one final kiss, his eyes screwed shut, moving slowly against Stan. When he pulled away he wrapped his hands gently around the upper arms of the male underneath him, making them both sit up.

"...We can't do this."

"I know." Stan had one finger to Craig's chest, drawing swirls and pointless patterns on the black fabric with it. "Damn... I come here to talk to you and look what happens," he said, laughing softly and humorlessly.

Craig gave him a genuine smile, chuckling quietly at Stan. He moved from on top of Stan, flipping so that instead he sat next to him. Stan felt awkward at the sudden silence, but said nothing anyway. Craig rested one elbow on his knee, using his hand to prop up his head. "So, uh... What _did _you want to talk about?"

"I told you- what happened to us. This sounds totally gay, but I guess I need closure or something like that. You just... left all of a sudden. I had questions, and I missed you. It was like... I dunno, I woke up the next morning and this huge part of my life was just... missing, gone."

"Dude, I'm sorry... there wasn't really anything I could do to get us any more time though." Craig was quiet for a moment, but then sat up slightly straighter as if he had gotten an idea. "Wait, you had questions? Ask me them, we can make up for what we didn't have a chance to do then and do it now."

Stan leaned back and picked up an imaginary clipboard, checking off an invisible box. "Okay, let's see. 'Make-out', done." He was glad to see Craig smile at this. "Well... I only really have one. Do you know who told your mom about us?"

"Why...? You aren't going to try to get revenge or anything, right?"

"No, I'm just curious. I just want to know who would be so cruel as to go and just ruin our relationship like that."

"Well, that's good at least. To be honest, I have no idea who did it. My mom never told me who it was who told her about us. Probably Cartman or something, that dick would."

"Well, that settles that... Actually, I have one more. What happened after your mom came in and you made me leave? I always wondered about that."

Craig sighed and fell backwards onto his bed, laying with his legs dangling over the edge. Stan joined him, turning his head to watch the way his lips moved as he spoke. "Hm. She just kinda stood there for a while with her arms crossed and staring at me disapprovingly. I knew that she figured out, but I tried to play dumb, just staring right back at her. After like, forever she was like, 'So I hear you're dating Stan?' I had no idea what to say, and I guess when I didn't say anything that meant that she was right, and she was all, 'I knew it. Break up with him'. I made the dumb mistake of saying that I wouldn't. If I didn't react so quickly I might have actually thought not to give us away. I should have said 'We're not' or something instead of saying that I wouldn't leave you." Craig lied there for a while, just staring up at the ceiling, clearly thinking hard about that night.

Stan reached over and grabbed Craig's hand, holding it tightly. "I'm sorry... That sucks."

"Yeah. I'm sorry too." He sighed, and turned his head to look at Stan. "Any more questions?" Stan shook his head.

"Not really. Do you have any for me?"

The ebony-haired boy licked his lips, his mouth opening but no words coming out. Finally, "You really loved me, didn't you?"

"Yeah... I really, really loved you."

* * *

"Stan, I can't talk right now. I have homework to do, and I'll probably be working until morning. Call me another time."

"Wendy, I know you're not busy. Don't even try to lie to me. I'm on my way over, we have to talk."

Wendy's voice sounded fuzzy and disconnected over Stan's cell phone's poor speakers, static fighting to overpower her smooth voice. "Fine. Let's try to make it quick though, I have papers to write."

"I will. I just want to talk. See you soon." Stan closed his phone with an irritated flick of the wrist. While he knew that he had to talk to Wendy if he ever wanted to get over what happened between them, but he didn't exactly want to. Stan wished Kyle wasn't always right...

Oh, God. Kyle.

He just made out with his ex-boyfriend and he has to face Kyle. Great. Just perfect.

Despite his urge to stop and punch himself in the gut a few times, Stan continued walking, his feet making cold clacks on the ice-covered sidewalks beneath his feet. He shoved his red-gloved hands into his pockets, trying his best to keep himself warm, failing pretty miserably. His thin coat and hat did little to keep the cold out, seeping right through the fabric and digging into his skin. Stan found himself actually walking faster to get to Wendy's house, if only for the cold.

Before he knew it he was standing before Wendy's door, counting the seconds that passed, trying to see how long he could stand there without feeling like a stalker or incredibly awkward. Sighing in exhaustion and despair, he lazily lifted a heavy arm to poke the doorbell twice, waiting for someone to answer the door. Stan counted a good twelve seconds before Wendy pulled open the brown, frozen door, sighing as if she couldn't believe her eyes. She invited Stan in, pulling open the door a little wider to make room for him. Wendy shut it loudly, making the picture frames tremble on the walls a little bit.

"Talk," she said, turning to him, her long, dark hair turning with her and landing to rest on her chest.

"Can... uh. Do you mind if we sit down?"

Wendy stopped, her shoulders and frame relaxing, as if some tight cord inside of her had just been let loose. She lifted a perfectly manicured hand to her black locks, combing it with her fingers. "Yeah, we can. Sorry, I'm just... stressed."

Wendy led Stan over to her couch, plopping down on the cushy seat, patting the spot beside her. Stan sat down, actually feeling a little more comfortable.

"Why are you stressed?" The raven-haired boy figured things would probably turn out better if he addressed her before himself. Sure enough, Wendy relaxed further, sinking back into the couch.

"Sorry, it's just been so long we've actually talked. I'm just a little uncomfortable, that's all. And I really do have papers to write, I didn't just make that up," She added, smiling tiredly. Now that Stan actually looked, he saw faint bags under the pretty girl's eyes, a clear sign of not sleeping well.

"Have... has everything been okay?"

"To tell you the truth, no, not at all."

"Bebe?"

The girl leaned all the way back in the seat, and all of a sudden she looked like she hadn't slept in days. She lifted a tired hand to rub under her eyes, and Stan could tell the black haired girl was trying her best just to stay awake.

"Yeah, it's Bebe. But... we're here to talk about you, you go."

"No, dude. I want to hear about you guys. I'm sure what you have to say is way more important than me, seriously. Tell me about you and Bebe." Stan reclined, slinging an arm over the back of the couch, watching Wendy as she made eye contact with the table in front of them.

"It's just... God," she stopped to rub at her forehead in a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. "It took forever to convince her to go out with me, and now she can't even look at me without... I don't even know. It's like she refuses to accept that we're dating, even though she seemed totally fine with it in the beginning. Now I'll try to hold her hand or hug her or whatever and she comes up with these great excuses or casual ways to just push me away. Like... I tried the other day to give her a hug, and she pulled the 'I'm going to be late for class' card."  
"Well... was the bell about to ring? Or was her class far away?"

"No! It was right down the hall, and we had like, five minutes left! Do you see what I mean? It's really difficult trying to be with someone who refuses to acknowledge the fact that you're together."

"Have you tried telling her any of this? Maybe she'd... I dunno, loosen up if you let her hear what you're thinking."

"Yeah, I did. I asked her why she wasn't being as friendly as usual, and she said that she wasn't acting any different than how she usually does. But it's not true, she's not like how she used to be."

"Wendy, I think it might be best to just give her some space. Bebe's probably a little freaked out right now."

"About what? We're best friends, she shouldn't be freaked out."

"Bebe's probably just a little put off by the sudden change. Has she ever told you before that she likes girls at all?"

Wendy took in a small breath that sounded almost like a soft gasp. "Actually... I don't think she ever said anything about it."

"Well then try talking to her about it then. Maybe even give her a little space. If she's still trying to figure out what and who she really likes, Bebe is probably feeling a little overwhelmed right now."

"God... Why didn't I think of that? I'm the worst girlfriend ever." The inky black haired girl looked a little devastated, sitting there with her shoulders slouched and her eyes ringed in the black of sleeplessness. "I think I'll try talking to her about it. Maybe this time I'll get a truthful answer."

"Tell me how it goes, okay?" Stan smiled sincerely, actually glad that he could help the purple-eyed girl. "Anything else you want to vent about? I don't mind listening."

"Actually, not really. I'm sure once this whole thing gets settled out, I'll be much less stressed. It's not exactly the most relaxing thing to be an honors student and class president at the same time, but when this whole thing blows over I'll probably be just that much more relaxed."

"Good. I'm sure things will end up okay."

For a moment Wendy sat there, fiddling with her fingers and the hem of her shirt dreamily. She had this soft smile on her lips that just barely played at her eyes, making them dance with the smallest bit of light. She soon broke away from her dreamy state as if she had just realized something. "Oh, God, Stan. I'm sorry, you came here wanting to talk and this entire time we've just been talking about me. Say what you want to say, I'm sorry."

Stan laughed a bit. "Actually, I kind of also wanted to talk about you. I just came from Craig's-" Wendy winced a bit, sympathising with Stan. "-I know. It was pretty bad at first, but it... actually kind of turned out okay." Stan could feel his face flushing, but did his best to cover it. "Anyway, we talked about like, why we broke up and how we both felt. Which was kind of super gay, but whatever. And so I figured I should talk to you, too, or else I probably wouldn't feel all the way better about this whole thing."

"Okay... What do you want to talk about then?"

"I know we never really said it out loud, but I'm pretty sure we both knew that we both weren't quite straight, and we were using our relationship to hide that. I just... I dunno, I want to hear about what was going through your head those past few years."

"Uh... huh." The girl stared forward, looking a little more awake, fingers flirting with a bit of her hair. "I'm not really sure where to start. Well, I guess I really figured out I liked girls when we were in the seventh grade... at a sleepover, better yet. That made the rest of the night nothing short of awkward. I didn't like any specific girls until... ninth grade, maybe? And that was, of course, Bebe. I had no idea what I was doing with a guy if I was... a lesbian, but in all honesty, I was afraid to break up with you. I tried like, a thousand times to break up with you, all for stupid reasons, I'll admit. They were all on total impulse, too. I was thinking something like, 'if I don't do this now then I'll never be able to do it', which ended up not working at all.

"I knew I would probably lose all my friends if I came out to them, so I guess that I was kind of using you to hide that I didn't like guys. Uh... as I'm sure you remember, I officially broke up with you in tenth grade. I spent that entire week thinking about if I was sure I really wanted to leave you, wondering what I would tell my friends, about what I would tell Bebe. Most of them were supportive, but some of them told me they couldn't be my friend anymore and just kind of... started ignoring me.

"For a while it sucked pretty bad, but it got better. They got used to the fact that this wasn't just a phase or anything, that I actually had meant what I said. And they were actually supportive. It was... a relief, to say the least.

"When I decided that I would tell Bebe I liked her, I was totally freaked out, but I knew that it wouldn't be any less stressful to not tell her. So, I told her. I asked her if she wanted to go to a movie with me, and I was just kinda like, 'I think I like you.'

"She was really, really freaked out at the beginning. She actually didn't properly reply until like, two weeks later. Bebe pretty much said, 'Sure, let's give it a try' and that was that. But now it's bugging me. She's acting like she doesn't really like me, and I feel that she should decide whether she wants to be with me or not and get over with it already." By the end of her rant, Wendy was spread out on the couch, acting as if Stan was just one of her friends, not the guy she had left for another girl. The inky-haired girl seemed completely comfortable with him, pouring out her heart like it was just coming naturally.

Stan was quiet for a moment, waiting in case Wendy wanted to continue. When she didn't, Stan cleared his voice and sat up slightly. "Dude, I keep my opinion. You should tell you how you feel. That whole thing about her acting like she doesn't like you as anything more than a friend, tell her that. If you just keep it bottled up around her then you're not going to have a good relationship."

"I guess you're right... How should I though?"

"I dunno... ask her out to dinner or a romantic night on the town or whatever you chicks do and just talk to her. Actually, it doesn't even have to be romantic or anything. You could just go over to her house and tell her how you feel, like how we just did."

Wendy bit her lip, considering Stan's advice. Eventually she began to nod her head. "I might do just that. You're the best, Stan." The blue-eyed male smiled shyly in return. "Okay, your turn. What was going through _your _head?"

"Let's see... I knew I liked guys since around the fourth grade, that first guy being Craig. For like, forever I refused to accept that I liked him, but I totally did. It sucked because my friends were all, 'Being gay is gross' and 'Homos are dumb'. Then again, Kyle turned out gay, I'm pretty sure Kenny's got a boner for Butters, and Cartman's just a dick... Anyway, that's beside the point. At the time we had no idea that everyone else was at least a little gay too, which made agreeing with their bashing on gay people pretty awkward feeling. I had it wired into my brain that being a homo was bad, and I needed you to cover up for the fact that I liked guys.

"I'm actually just a little thankful that you broke up with me, to tell the truth. If you hadn't I probably would've never asked out Craig. Sure, it was pretty hard to be with him because he was so cold and his mom was so intolerant, but we still had a hell of a time. Craig was really, really cool. He was calm, he was smart, strong, dark and handsome. And I guess he was nice. Sometimes. Anyway, point is that it was a pretty fun year. Obviously, it stopped being great when he was forced to break up with me... but the whole thing was still worth it.

"When you first left me, I was pretty freaked out. I didn't want to get another girlfriend, but I didn't want to just come out and go straight for Craig at the same time. So I took a few months off of all relationships, just focusing on school and my friends. I tried to convince myself that it was for the better, not being with Craig, but it didn't work. I knew I was totally crazy about him, and I think sometime in December or January I ended up asking him out. And actually, he kind of acted a little bit like how Bebe is right now.

"When we were out in public or at his house, Craig would hardly even touch me. He wouldn't hold my hand, he would avoid hugging me, and kisses were out of the question. But when we were alone or at my house... he was so sweet. He would hold me, play with my hair... You get the picture. I honestly thought we might last forever, but we ended up lasting nowhere near as long. His mom is a huge homophobe for some reason, and when someone told her that we were together, she made Craig break up with me."

"What! You're kidding." It seemed as if Wendy couldn't control her voice, the disbelieving exclamation exploding from her mouth.

"No, I'm serious. His mom was actually like, 'You can't be with another guy, leave him'. He was kind of forced to. Craig just told me that if he didn't then she would have kicked him out. Apparently she's at least threatened to throw him out of the house before, too."

"Oh, no way... Who told her?"

"I have no idea. Even Craig doesn't know who told her about the two of us."

"Damn, Stan... Sorry, keep going."

"Well, that's actually pretty much all I wanted to say," Stan scratched under his blue and red hat awkwardly, a little embarrassed about this whole situation. A silence fell over their heads, the only sound being the occasional soft swooshing sound of passing cars. After what felt like an eternity, Wendy spoke up.

"Stan, this question is a little weird, but... Could you tell that I was... You know, a lesbian?"

"To tell you the truth, I kinda suspected it," Stan said, half-wincing.

"No, really? Oh, God... It wasn't obvious, was it?" Fear and anxiety filled Wendy's purple eyes as she looked at Stan. Everything about her looked nervous.

"Not really. Just to me. I'd been with you for so long and I knew you so well that I could just kind of tell. I don't think anyone else really noticed it... Why do you ask?"

"I was pretty worried that people knew before I told my friends. I still haven't really came out to anyone besides them, so I'm just nervous that I was... a flaming lesbian or something."

"No, not at all."

"That's a relief... When I told Butters-"

"Wait, you're friends with Butters? I didn't know that..."

"Yeah, he's really sweet, he's just like one of the girls. And he doesn't even mind getting into a dress or wearing makeup, he's totally adorable... Anyway, when I told Butters, he said something along the lines of, 'Oh, I kind of figured that you were'. Of course, he said it in his Butters' way, so I totally just butchered it, but that's pretty much what he said."

"Wendy, it's like you said, Butters is just like one of the girls. He's all sentimental and he gets emotions and body language and all that girly shit. I would be concerned if he didn't know, actually."

"I guess you're right... I hope so, at least."

"Why, are you... I dunno, ashamed of liking girls instead of guys?"

"Not really... It's not that I'm ashamed, I just don't want to be judged for it. Our town doesn't seem to be that gay friendly, you know?"

"It's mostly the parents that are intolerant, not the people our age. I'm not saying you should come out if you're not ready to, but just know that you'll probably be accepted and seen as the same old Wendy."

"I really hope you're right, Stan." Wendy leaned back into the couch, staring into space with a blank, almost sad look on her face. After a few seconds she let out a little laugh. "I'm sorry, I ended up just talking about myself again. If you want to say anything then please do, I've kind of been monopolizing this whole conversation."

"No, it's okay. I should actually be getting home pretty soon, it's gonna get dark in not too long." Sure enough, the sun had already begun to set below the trees, the small amount of light still reaching the earth was a golden shade of orange. The branches chopped up the light and made stretched slivers of light come to rest on the floor of Wendy's living room.

"You're probably right." Wendy sat up and made her way to the door, Stan following close behind. Before the raven-haired boy opened the door she reached up on her tip-toes to give him a hug. Stan could practically feel Wendy smiling. He waved goodbye as he shut the door behind him, starting his walk back home. The air outside was just starting to cool off, making Stan pull down his red and blue poofball cap further down over his head and stuffing his gloved hands into his pockets. His breath clouded in front of his lips, leaving a quickly-disappearing trail of steam behind him. He could almost feel his nose and cheeks going red with the cold. Much to his distaste, his phone started to ring. He almost wanted to let it go so he could keep his hands inside his pockets, but on the third ring he pulled the scratched silver cell out of his jacket.

"Stan?"

"Hey, is this Kyle?"

"Yeah. What are you doing?"

"I'm just on my way back from Wendy's house. We just finished talking."

"Really, you took my advice? That's great, Stan. Did things work out okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think they did."

"Good. Are you gonna go talk to Craig, too?"

"I already did, actually."

"How did that go?"

When Kyle asked this, Stan couldn't help but remember the way Craig felt in his arms, hands pressed to the blue-eyed boy's chest, half pulling and half pushing in desire. He just barely caught a distraught sigh before it escaped his lips, not wanting to make Kyle suspicious. Of course, Stan felt awful about cheating on Kyle, but he just loved the pianist so much... He lifted a hand to squeeze at the bridge of his nose, trying his best to distract himself from the embarrassing acts. "Pretty well... I felt like we talked a bit better than Wendy and I did."

"How's that?"

"I dunno. We just seemed more focused than when I talked with Wendy. Don't get me wrong, talking with Wendy went really well. I just think it went a little better with Craig." Stan smiled, lifting a hand to touch at his lips, where he could still almost feel Craig pressing another kiss. Of course, he felt bad that he had cheated so easily on his boyfriend, but Stan couldn't just change how he felt.

"That's good, I guess. At least it went well, right? What did you guys talk about?"

"Well, with Craig we talked about why we fell apart, and with Wendy we just talked about pretty much how we felt while we were together. I thought it would be super awkward, but it was actually okay."

"I'm glad. Oh, while I'm thinking about it, Kenny's phone isn't working and he told me to tell you that he wants to talk to you."

"When, like, now?"

"Yeah, he said to go to his house as soon as you could. Something about how he's going to 'kick your ass if you don't show up'."

Stan laughed, "Alright, alright, I'll go. God, Kenny can be such a dick."

"You're right about that part at least. I'm gonna run, I have homework to do."

"You know Garrison's not going to check it, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I have nothing better to do though. See you tomorrow, love."

"See ya, Kyle." Stan snapped his phone shut, returning his hands to his pockets. He groaned when he realized he was walking in the opposite direction from Kenny's house, spinning around and heading in the other direction. For the first time in years, Stan actually felt good as he passed by Wendy's house again.

It didn't take more than fifteen minutes for the raven-haired male to reach the aquamarine-eyed boy's house, knocking on the chipped, worn door. It didn't take long for him to hear scuffling coming from inside the thin walls, and Kenny soon appeared, pulling open the rickety door.

"Dude, hey! Come on in." If possible, it seemed even colder inside Kenny's house than it was outside, Stan could see his breath clearly as it left his lungs, and he found himself trying his best not to rub at his arms and appear rude. The house was usually filled with the twangy-sounding yells of southern accented voices, but now it was eerily quiet. Stan could practically hear the sound of the snowflakes coming to rest on the windowsill.

"Where are your parents?"

"I dunno, passed out somewhere. Sit down," the honey-haired blond gestured to the couch where the two of them flopped down. Any normal person wouldn't sit on the stained, dirty seats, but Stan had been sitting on the musty cushions since he could remember.

"We missed you today, pillow-biter. Where were you?"

Stan took the honest route. Being dishonest with Kenny was never a good plan. The guy knew everything, and he could see through the very best liar. "At Kyle's house, talking about my feelings."

"Thought so," he muttered under his breath. "And after that?"

"Ugh. Went to Craig's and then Wendy's."

"To do what?"

"Talk about my feelings... again."

"Fun, fun. So, uh... With Craig, did you only talk about your... feelings, or did you do anything else?"

"...Fuck, Kenny, do you know _everything_?"

"Only the important stuff. So what did you two do?"

"We, uh, talked. And then kinda... made out for a while. And then I left," Stan was ashamed, talking as slowly as possible and refusing to make eye contact with Kenny.

"Right. Cool. So, how was all that?"

"Oh, god, Kenny, please don't make me talk about how I feel any more. You have no idea how much of my day I've spent on my feelings now."

"Alright, fine. But just know that Kyle would probably freak if he ever knew about that."

"I know. But I guess I'm... I guess I'm still in love with him or something."

"I see. Go on."

"Well... I mean... Fuck, Kenny, I said I didn't want to talk about my feelings," he said, stopping himself before he said anything more.

"I don't care. You need to. Go on."

"God, fine. It's not like he chose to leave me. And it's not like being forced to break up with me destroyed his feelings for me and mine for him. His mom made us broke up, she didn't make us forget about each other. So we were talking and I pretty much just... lost it. I'm actually surprised he didn't punch me in the face or something."

"Why's that?"

"His mom could have walked in at any second, and I was pretty much on top of him. Literally, actually."

"His mom made you two break up, why?"

Stan stopped for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Someone told his mom we were together and... She's like, really super homophobic, and when she figured out Craig and I were together she flipped and made him break up with me."  
"Really." Kenny sat back into the couch, crossing his arms and looking straight at Stan. "Do you know why she's homophobic?"

"Uh..." Stan was searching Kenny's face, as if it had the answer he was looking for. No matter how hard he tried to think about if Craig ever told him anything about if anything had happened to his mom, whether she had seen or heard something or anything, but absolutely nothing came to mind. "I have no clue. I don't think Craig has said anything about why."

"Huh. Do you think you should ask him?"

"Honestly, no. If he hasn't told me, it's probably not that great of a reason. It seems like something pretty bad happened dude, I don't want to force him to tell me."

"I think you're right, Stan. Who knows, he may tell you someday why, but until then you probably shouldn't make him tell you. Anything else you want to tell me?"

Stan's eyes knitted together in fear and regret as he looked at Kenny's startlingly blue eyes. "What should I do about Kyle? Should I tell him what happened?"

"Uh... hm... That's actually a good question. The easy thing to do would to be to not tell him anything about what you and Craig did besides talking... But I think the right, and hard thing to do would be to tell him. It's gonna suck pretty fat, vinegary balls, but it's just gonna eat at you if you don't tell him, dude."

Stan groaned, collapsing backward into the cushions behind him. "You're right again. And It totally sucks. What if he freaks out or something thought?"

"He'll forgive you eventually. I mean, you're Stan, his best friend in the world. He couldn't last long without you. You've fought like, twice, right? And each time you two made up, no big deal. I'm sure he'll calm down sooner or later."

"Alright, if you say so. I'll just see what happens I guess." Stan began to stand up from the dirty couch, adjusting his jacket and shifting around his hat. Kenny stood up with him, escorting the slightly shorter male to the door. "Thanks, Kenny. You're the coolest."

The blond reached around Stan and wrenched open the scratched door, smiling at the ebony-haired boy. Just before he stepped out onto the porch, Kenny stopped him. "Stan."

The aquamarine-eyed male turned, curious to hear what Kenny had to say. Much to his surprise, the lanky male released the doorknob and wrapped his arms around Stan's waist. "Kenny? Is something wrong?" The porcelain skinned boy buried his face into the crook of Stan's neck, pulling the raven closer. Stan tentatively wrapped his arms around the honey haired male's shoulders.

"Stan, what would you do if I told you... If I told you that I think I may be in love with you?" The doorway was silent for a moment, and Stan felt his body coarse suddenly with adrenaline. The ocean eyed football player was almost worried for a second that Kenny would be able to hear his heart beat.

When Kenny pulled back, looking into Stan's eyes as he inched closer to the ebony haired male's lips. Just before the two made contact, Stan slipped his arms between the two, pushing the unfortunate boy slightly away. "Nice try, Kenny. I learned my 'don't make out with your other friends when you have a boyfriend' lesson for today."

Kenny pulled away and smirked at Stan. "Good job, fudge packer. Now get out of here." He playfully slapped Stan's behind as the tall black haired male made his way out the door. However, when Stan turned around to wave goodbye and shoot a smile to his long time friend, he thought he saw a hint of sadness in Kenny's deep, blue eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** Again, thanks for reading. See you all next Sunday~


	7. Don't Be Stupid

**A/N:** Hello again, friends~ This chapter will be kind of on the shorter side, kind of to make up for the extra-long chapter from last week. I don't really have a whole lot to say about this chapter, except that I completely love Ike, who shows up later in this section. Also, since this is set in the future of SP, he's older than he is in the show. This is the end of the Style chapters, and next up will be Wendy and Bebe's story.

On a completely irrelevant side-note, if you're anything like me, you're exhausted from studying for final exams and are ready as can be for Winter Break. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I've been taking very long breaks to play video games and go on FF. But I'm easily distracted, what can I say?

Now, onto the actual story!

* * *

_"Just tell him, Stan. He'll forgive you sooner or later, so don't take the easy way out. It's gonna suck fat, vinegary balls, but don't let this eat away at you. You're his best friend. Just tell him, pillow biter."_

Stan jolted awake at the piercing sound of his alarm clock, flailing his legs and arms a bit in surprise. Immediately exhausted, Stan, smacked the top of the clock, making it fall face down on his desk. He fell backwards into bed, pressing the palms of his hands over his tired eyes. He had forgotten yesterday was a Friday and didn't turn off his alarm. He groaned, exasperated. _Nobody should be up this early on a Saturday,_ he thought, turning over and closing his eyes again. After a good half hour of shuffling the sheets, flipping from side to side, pulling the blankets up and down, even counting sheep, Stan gave up and got out of bed. The sun still hadn't yet risen, but he could make out the faintest bit of orange light creeping out at the very edge of the horizon. Stan groaned again out of sheer irritation and pulled shut the blinds, not even wanting to recognize that he had wasted a good four extra hours of sleep on a stupid mistake.

Stan walked limply down the stairs, ruffling his hair and pulling at his pajama bottoms. He dragged his feet to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and peering inside through sensitive, half shut eyes. After a few moments of looking through the contents with a completely empty stomach, the ocean eyed male ended up grabbing a large jug of milk and ripping off the cap, drinking several deep gulps straight from the carton. He eventually snapped the lid back on and shoved it back onto its shelf before pulling a bagel from a bag on the counter. Stan slapped the bagel onto a plate before dragging himself into the dining room and slumping into a chair. He pressed his head to the table, lifting it occasionally only to take tiny bites from the bread.

The rest of Stan's morning was equally slow, trying his best to prolong the time he had before he had to face Kyle. The raven haired football player knew that he would have to tell his boyfriend what he did, but that didn't mean he wanted to. All throughout the morning he would stop occasionally to groan in apprehension, trying his best to push the very thought of what he had to do out of his mind, and failing each and every time. Stan knew his time was up when his mom stuck her head into his room several hours later, announcing that he had a call from Kyle. Stan spun around in his desk chair, sighing as he took the phone from his mother's hand.

"Kyle?"

"Hey, dude. What are ya up to?"

"Chipping off the paint from my desk."

"Well, that sounds fun."

"Yeah, it was. So, uh, anyway... Are you busy right now?"

"Not really. I'm just about as bored as you sound."

"Cool. Can you come over? I need to talk to you."

"Sure, dude. I'll be there in a little. Love ya."

Stan nearly choked on himself when he responded, "Love you, too."

* * *

Within a handful of minutes, the redhead was standing on his doorstep, knocking the theme of Terrance and Phillip, their favorite childhood show into the door. He smiled cheerfully when Stan pried open the door, instantly making Stan's stomach sink to his feet.

"Hi, Stan." Kyle stood up slightly on his tiptoes to press an innocent kiss to Stan's cheek, slipping off his shoes when he stepped inside the house.

"Hey. Let's head up to my room." Kyle looked at his boyfriend suspiciously, but didn't object when Stan placed his hand on his back and led Kyle upstairs. Stan's heart was racing, knots began forming in the pit of his stomach, and he could feel his face flush with embarrassment. The worst part was when Stan realized he hadn't even said anything about what had happened yet.

Stan took his time closing his bedroom door, savoring the protesting squeaks and creaks the hinges made as he slowly clicked it into its place. When he turned around, Kyle was seated on his bed, rolling the quilt on Stan's bed between his fingers. The normally sarcastic, cheerful boy was unusually somber, not even a hint of a smile to be found on his face. Stan took a breath to try to calm himself down, walking to where Kyle sat and took the spot next to him. A long, uncomfortable silence settled over their heads, unusual for the friendly, talkative couple. An eternity passed by before Kyle spoke up.

"Okay, Stan. Something is clearly wrong. Can you tell me what so I can help you?"

The ebony haired male huffed a sigh and leaned backwards onto his elbows, trying his best to seem as calm as possible. "If I tell you, will you please, please, please promise not to flip and hate me forever?"

"Damn, dude, is it really that bad? What in the world did you do?"

"Just promise me."

"Fine, I promise I won't flip."

"And?"

"And hate you forever. Now what the hell did you do?"

"Okay, so you know how I went over to Craig's house to talk?"

"Yeah."

"So you know how we kind of didn't decide on our own to break up and kind of still had feelings for each other?"

"Yeah...?"

"Well, uh... We kind of did a little more than talked."

"Oh my god..."

"Dude, Kyle, I'm so sorry, I feel so bad about this, but I-"

"You're _sorry_!" Kyle stood up quickly from his spot on the bed, curling his pale hands into fists, face grazed with red. "You fucked Craig, and the best you can say is _sorry_!"

"Dude! I never said we screwed! We kissed a little, that's all!"

"Really. Kissed a little, huh. And you expect me to just forgive you, right? Am I right?" Kyle was becoming angrier and angrier, it was obvious by how he had begun to run his hand through his fire red hair and how his frame trembled in the slightest bit.

"Kyle, no flipping! You made a promise!"

"God, I was hoping you two had shot heroine or stolen something, but kissed?"

"...Alright, now you're just being weird. Kyle, please sit down, I want to talk to you about this."

"What more is there to say! You made out with your ex-boyfriend while you were still going out with me, I think that says enough!"

"Kyle, I said I'm sorry! It's not my fault if I still have feelings for my ex-boyfriend who I didn't even break up with on choice! Can't you understand that just because I'm with you doesn't mean that the only person I'm in love with is you!" Stan stopped once he noticed the hurt face on Kyle's pale face, his eyes glistening with pain. "I... God, I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm just... wound a little tight right now. Forget I said anything." Stan rubbed his eyes, pushing on them with his fingers until the insides of his eyelids looked like red and white television static. When he opened them again the world was blurry, and the ebony haired male had to blink several times to clear it again.

When his eyes focused, he saw that the redhead hadn't moved an inch since Stan had closed his eyes. Tears had started to form around his beautiful jade eyes, almost spilling out from behind his light lashes. He was staring unblinkingly at Stan's dusty blue carpet. Stan took a breath and started to say something, but Kyle stood before he could utter even a word. The Jewish boy began to walk quickly for the door, the black haired male standing up and going after him.

"Dude... Kyle, wait, I was in the wrong."

"Don't you fucking dare talk to me, Stan." His voice was strained, tightened, broken. Stan almost had trouble hearing him from the way he whispered so quietly.

"Please, Kyle, stop."

"I _said _don't talk to me."

"Kyle, I'm in love with you, please don't leave!" By now they were out the door and on the sidewalk, still walking quickly one after the other.

"No."

"I can't-"

"_No_."

Stan grabbed a hold of Kyle's wrist, fingers enclosing over his green jacket. "Listen, I was-" A sickening smack filled the frozen air around them, an equally cold hand passing over his face. His cheek stung as if someone had cut it open and poured a gallon of lemon juice over it.

Before the small, thin male turned and retreated down the cracked gray sidewalk, Stan caught a glimpse of his tear-stained, flushed face. It almost hurt just looking at his furrowed eyebrows and his green irises against the reddened whites of his eyes.

Stan's feet were rooted to the ground, staring after the retreating figure. He wanted so much to unfreeze himself and run after Kyle, but he just couldn't move. The raven haired male was telling himself to retrieve Kyle and make everything better, but his body wouldn't listen. The longer he tried to un-glue himself from the sidewalk the farther away the red haired Jewish boy got, and the more Stan's heart broke. He couldn't bring himself to even raise his voice and call out to Kyle, instead just standing transfixed.

The head of fiery hair rounded the corner and disappeared out of view, but Stan continued to stand rooted to the ground for several uncountable minutes. When he finally regained control of his body, he reached up to his blue and red hat and pulled it down tightly over his hair before stuffing his hands in his pockets. A sigh escaped from his lips, and the ocean blue eyed male spun on his heel, walking back to his home, his shoulders slouched. He barely resisted the urge to cry, biting his bottom lip to keep the tears from coming.

When he reached his house again, he stepped inside and kicked off his shoes, ignoring his mother calling out a greeting to him. His legs felt like jello, Stan was surprised he even had the energy to climb the stairs and get to his room. Clicking the door behind him, the raven haired male stumbled to his bed and collapsed onto it.

_If I hadn't gone to see Craig this whole thing wouldn't have happened. I should have never listened to Kyle, he thought. If I hadn't gone and kissed Craig, this whole thing wouldn't have happened. We would probably still be together. But I had to fuck it up. _Stan pulled his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them.

* * *

The next day, Stan found himself standing on Kyle's front porch, eyes trying to memorize how the splintery, slightly worn wood looked against the dull green house. His confidence rose when he saw that the jade eyed male still had the flowers Stan had given him in his window box, thankful that they weren't torn from their pots just yet. Several times he had tried to press the door bell, each time his arm falling back at his side, far too nervous to push the white button. He sighed, adjusting his hat and shirt for what felt like the millionth time that day. A sudden gust of wind shoved the snow off of Kyle's rooftop, brushing the white, sparkling flakes down among Stan, swirling and coming to rest on his shoulders and at his feet.

The aquamarine eyed male took in a breath of the shockingly cold air, lifting his arm quickly and shoving the doorbell in before he had time to change his mind. Refusing the urge to turn and run away, he waited in the snow for someone to answer the door. His heart was racing, it felt like it was about to burst from his tight chest, pounding mercilessly inside its cage. Without warning, the door was pulled open, and Stan looked down to see Kyle's little brother, Ike. The Canadian boy looked up at Stan through darkly colored eyes and neat, black hair.

"Oh. Hey, Stan."

"Hi, Ike. How are you?"

"Is that really what you want to be asking me?" Ike leaned up against the door frame, crossing his arms and staring at the taller male.

"Not really. Is Kyle home?"

"You know he is. That's still not what you should be asking though." It pissed Stan off that Ike was the little bratty genius he was; both book and street smart. "I know all about your falling out with Kyle. Ask me about it. I know you want to." He could see right through Stan. The football player lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Fine. How's Kyle? Is he less pissed?"

"Well, last night he came home pretty angry, that's for sure. Thank god you didn't go after him. Good boy for waiting." Stan resisted the urge to shake the genius kid, watching as Ike crossed his arms. "He seems better today, but watch what you say to him. You know how he can get. Also, if you really want him back, you'd better shut up everything you're feeling about Craig. That was a dick move, making out with him. It's not gonna work out again, so let it go."

"Fuck, how do you know all this? Stalker."

"Dude, you're not the only one that's friends with Kenny." With this he stepped aside, pulling the door open for Stan. Without saying another word to the black haired male, he turned and walked to the couch, plopping down after picking up a book Stan assumed he was reading when he got to the Broflovski house. Stan opened his mouth, but before he could even say anything, Ike lifted an arm and pointed to the staircase.

"Don't be stupid, Stan. Where else would he be?"

Stan sighed, ruffling Ike's hair passively on his way over to the stairs. The adopted teen whined childishly, and Stan could almost hear him trying to flatten and re-adjust his hair as the football player climbed the stairs.

Something the black haired Canadian boy calmed down Stan, if only in the slightest bit. The ocean eyed male found himself only hesitate one or two times before knocking tentatively on Kyle's door, welcomed with a friendly, "Fuck off," from the inside.

"I'm coming in, Kyle." The door groaned as Stan pushed it open, the hinges squeaking obnoxiously.

Kyle was lying on his bed, an arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. He lifted it a little bit, peering out from underneath, groaning when he saw it was Stan. "Get out, Stan. I don't want to see you."

The ebony haired boy ignored him, walking over so he was standing a couple feet from the thin male's bed. "Can I talk to you?"

"You already are. No. Leave." He turned on his side so he was facing away from the tall male, his knees bent and his bed creaking as he shifted. Stan sighed and sat down near the crook of his knees, looking at Kyle. The small boy's eyes were red and slightly swollen; it was no secret that he had been crying.

"Kyle, please listen..."

"I'm not going to, so you might as well not say anything. Leave."

"What I did was wrong, I know that. I should have never done what I did, I realize that now. I really do love you, Kyle, don't think for a second that I don't. If I lost you... I don't know what I would do. But I don't think I could handle it. I'll drop all feelings I have for Craig, I'll only see him as a friend. Nothing more. I'll be true to you as long as you want me, I'll take care of you, just give me one more chance to prove that to you. I just need one more chance... Please, Kyle?"

Kyle was silent, staring at the wall. He showed no signs of even hearing Stan.

"You... you don't have to answer me now, I guess. I know I was a dick, and I know you're still pretty pissed. And I don't blame you. If you did the same to me, I would be pretty damn angry, too. Just... I dunno. Don't let this end so easily. Please."

The redhead still refused to say anything, and after what felt like an eternity of waiting for any kind of answer or response, Stan stood and adjusted his clothes. He sighed softly, walking for the door, but stopped when a croaky, broken voice spoke out from behind him.

"Don't leave just yet. I'll answer you now. You're a dick. I still love you. But I don't think that I can just forgive you like that. I absolutely _cannot believe_ you would... do what you did, especially when you were still with me. You cheated on me, and I'm not even sure if I can forgive that." By this point, Kyle had broken away from his defeated, curled up place on his bed and was instead sitting upright. He turned his head occasionally to the side to glance at Stan through red-rimmed eyes, hands clenching and releasing the fabric around his knees. "I'm not a quitter, and I'm not going to quit on us. But I... I won't just throw away what we have. I want a little time to get over the fact that you cheated on me with your ex so easily. Let's try us again... later. Okay?" Kyle's usual tone returned with his last statement, and although he was talking with a clearly angry tone, Stan could see Kyle starting to get better. He wasn't even completely facing Stan, but the ebony haired male could tell that they were making progress nonetheless. Stan smiled.

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N: **So... that's the end of that! I actually had a happy ending at first, but with my recent angst I was going to change it to Kyle flipping out and breaking up with Stan, but now I've decided to do a kind of neutral ending. I kind of wish I went with the bad one since Knots is kind of a happy story, but... Oh well. I'll test out my angst on other stories, haha.

Thank you for reading, and I'll see you next week!


	8. Unrequited?

**A/N:** I'm sorry this update is so late! I've been busy with not doing anything with myself for the past like, two weeks, so I'm sorry that I haven't posted any new chapters. I know it's weird to be posting this on a Wednesday instead of my usual Sunday updates, but I figured that I shouldn't make you guys wait any longer. But about the story, this part will be mostly to clarify parts of the story that might not be well explained or parts that I left out. All in all, I guess this part is kind of not that important to the real plotline. Anyway, I hope you read an enjoy.

* * *

Hazelnut eyes lifted when the sound of a heavy, large object being dropped on the ground sounded to the left. Tucking a thick, curly strand of golden hand behind her ear, Bebe Stevens' eyes fell on the thin, fragile, frame of Wendy Testaburger. Her black hair bounced on her back as she sat down, flirting with the bottoms of her shoulder blades. Before leaning down to adjust her backpack so it was leaning against the desk, she smiled, exposing her pearly white teeth to her best friend.

"Good morning, Bebe! How are you?"

"Fine, thanks."

"I'm glad. How did you sleep?"

"Fine. And you?"

"Pretty good," she said. The smile was still on her face, but not in her voice. Wendy finished adjusting her supplies and double-checking that she had everything for the day, and turned back to the curly haired blond seated at the desk beside her. "So I was thinking we should go to a movie this weekend, just the two of us. What do you say?"

A surge of fear shot through Bebe's stomach, and she unconsciously scooted closer to Wendy. "Um... Just the two of us? Nobody else, right?"

"Yeah. We can sit off to the side or something so nobody sees us. I won't invite anyone else if you don't want me to. Wanna go?"

"Maybe... I'll have to ask my parents first though."

Wendy smiled hopefully in return, thankful the blond gave her even just a 'maybe'. "What do you want to see?"

"I'm up for anything, as long as you want to see it. I don't really mind what we see." The blond was rummaging through her pencil bag, pretending to be looking for something. As long as it gave her an excuse to look away from Wendy's piercing purple eyes for just a second, it was worth it. Just as a cover, she chose a random pen and took it out, setting it carefully at the top of her desk.

"...Are you sure you're alright?" Wendy leaned to the side, trying to get Bebe to look at her.

"Yeah, yeah. ...Wait, what do you mean?"

"I mean in general. About the movie, you personally... Just are you alright?"

Bebe nodded and smiled unconvincingly at the black haired girl. "I'm totally fine, really. Just tired." The blond yawned, trying to get Wendy to believe her. But, of course, she wasn't telling the truth. If she had been telling the truth, she would have told the dark haired girl sitting to her left that no, she was nervous. Freaked out. Terrified. Because not three weeks earlier, this girl, this purple eyed, black haired beauty confessed to her that she wanted to be something more than best friends.

About three weeks ago, the two were standing in front of the high school's small theatre. The girls and their friends stayed there in the morning before school started when Wendy wasn't in the orchestra room. The five minute bell had already rang, and if the two didn't leave soon, they would be late. The hallways were thinning out, the only kids left around being the ones who woke up late, their ruffled hair and clothes disheveled, and the slackers who skipped every other class.

_"Wendy, we should really get to class... Mr. Garrison is probably going to yell at us if we're late again."_

_"It's Mr. Garrison, he's not going to care if we're a few minutes late."_  
_"You've never been late to class in your life, Wendy! Why is it suddenly okay?"_

_"No reason. I just don't think we need to leave just yet."_

_"Are you okay, Wendy? Are you sick or something?' Bebe lifted a thin hand to Wendy's forehead, slipping her fingers under the girl's black bangs and testing Wendy's temperature._

_"I-I'm fine." A light blush formed over Wendy's cheeks as she averted her eyes, and she gently brushed away Bebe's hand, trying her best to fight it away._

_"Alright, it's obvious something's wrong, Wendy. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"_

_"Well, yeah..."_

_"What is it then? Does it have something to do with a guy?"_

_"No."_

_"Did your parents do something?"_

_"No," The amethyst eyed girl said, a hint of frustration in her voice._

_"Well then... what?" Bebe crossed her arms, leaning on one leg._

_"It's just... Uh... Well, do you want to be my girlfriend?"_

_"Um, excuse me?" The blond's eyebrow raised, her shoulders straightened._

_"I don't want us to be just friends. I want to be something more. Well... what do you say?"_

_"Wait, are you serious? W-what about Stan? I thought you two were back together."_

_"I dumped Stan a while ago, actually... When I told you that we were dating again? That was a lie. The last time I broke up with him was in the beginning of ninth grade."_

_"But that was like, three years ago... why didn't you tell me?"_

_"I mean... I didn't want you to get suspicious or anything."_

_Bebe thought about the implications of this. Had Wendy really liked her for that long? How could she not have noticed? "Uh, okay. And you want to date... me?"_

_"Well, yeah." Bebe was silent, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of her head, She was staring at the wall behind Wendy, scanning it with her amber eyes. "Look, just give me a chance. If you don't want to go through with it, you can dump me or whatever. But just give it a try, please. For me?"_

_Brown eyes finally were pulled from the wall, studying Wendy's face. It was clear she was thinking hard about Wendy's idea, weighing the options. "I... alright, Wendy, you're my best friend, and I don't want to hurt you. So, I... I think that we..." Bebe sighed, forcing herself to keep eye contact with Wendy. The black haired girl's expression was hopeful, eyes glimmering, brows raised in the slightest bit, the blush not yet left from her face. Bebe couldn't say no. "Fine. Okay, I'll give it a try."_

_"Really? You really will?"_

_"Yeah, I will. Now come on, we're going to be late for class."_

* * *

Since then, Bebe had joined their school's Gay Straight Alliance, trying to figure out if this was really what she wanted. If this was really what she was willing to go through with. So far it seemed alright, but Bebe was still a little reluctant to show Wendy affection before she came to a final decision. While Wendy was now her girlfriend, she was also her best friend at the same time, and Bebe didn't want to lead her on if dating her wasn't really what she wanted out of their relationship.

"So I was thinking that we could-" Wendy stopped when the door at the back of the classroom slammed open, two boys standing side by side, trying to catch their breath like they had just run a marathon. A split second later, the bell marking the start of the school day sounded, piercing Wendy's ears.

"Okay, okay, shut up and sit down," Mr. Garrison called from his desk.

"Well, never mind I guess. See ya, Bebe." Wendy lifted her bag and slung it over her shoulder and walked over to her desk, a few rows over from Bebe's. The blond tried her best to smile at her as she left, but even Bebe could tell that it was fake. Sighing and rubbing her face, she slouched into her desk, elbows sliding across the dull, gray surface in front of her.

"Class, we're gonna try something a little different today. Instead of talking about soap operas and reality TV shows, we're going to try having a discussion." Mr. Garrison took another breath, but Kyle spoke up from Bebe's left, cutting him off.

"Mr. Garrison, we discuss things every day. When are we going to learn about the Kumlinge Battle or the effects of the Industrial Revolution in United Kingdom or the alternative energy in Europe?"

Bebe tuned out the rest of her teacher's and the snappy redhead's conversation, accustomed the two commonly quarrelling, the boy in the green ushanka always insisting they learn something useful, her gray-haired, balding teacher dismissing him with a 'We'll learn that later.'

She half-listened when it sounded like Mr. Garrison had started to talk about something important. The blond girl understood that the class was supposed to write any sort of anonymous question on a slip of paper, and that Mr. Garrison would ask it to the class.

"You know, that's a huge waste of paper. I'm sure once you're done that you'll just throw each and every single sheet away, won't you? Do you know that every single day, seventy eight million acres of forest are chopped down? And you're just going to..." Stan had spoken up, addressing the teacher with obvious anger in his voice. She watched with slight interest as the ebony haired boy spoke with his hands and gestured at the teacher with his pen, his eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes harsh, trying hard to make his point. Bebe wasn't surprised when the man rolled his eyes and pushed up his square glasses, making fun of Stan's care for the environment and calling him a homosexual. However, she was surprised at Stan's reaction.

His chest jerked as if someone had punched him hard, his eyes widening in the slightest and his face paling at Mr. Garrison's taunt. For a split second she wondered why the blue eyed male hadn't brushed it off like he usually did, when she remembered what Wendy had told her a few months back.

_"I honestly think he might be totally gay, I don't think he's just going through a phase or doing it for attention any more. I thought he was totally bluffing when he started dating Craig, but he's been acting... I dunno, like he's not interested in girls at all any more."_

_"Are you gonna say anything to him? I mean, he is your boyfriend. Tell him to knock it off!"_

_"Oh.. right. Yeah, I guess I should."_

Bebe had known that Stan had dated Craig, but not too long ago she had learned that Wendy didn't get back together with Stan after freshman year. She searched Stan's face, wondering if Stan really was gay. Bebe hadn't heard of him dating any girls other than Wendy, with whom he had an on-off thing with since third grade. The more she thought of it, the more probable it seemed to become.

Stan felt Bebe's hazelnut eyes on him and looked up from his desktop and straight at her. Instead of turning away, she sent him an understanding, comforting smile. He sent one back, clearly grateful for the blond girl's care.

"Write your questions, I'll come around and pick them up in a second." Bebe sat for a moment, tapping her pencil on the paper when Clyde tapped her shoulder from behind.

"Hey, turn this one in." Clyde had a slip of paper extended over her shoulder, his face close to Bebe's.

"...Clyde, what did you write on it?" She raised one blond eyebrow in skepticism.

"Nothing, just turn it in," he said, a mischievous smirk playing at his lips.

Bebe sighed and accepted the paper, she probably had nothing any better. In retrospect she really shouldn't have accepted the note so easily. She knew it couldn't be anything other than juvenile, but the blond didn't really care. The amber eyed boy was a troublemaker, to say the least. Clyde was often involved in beating kids up, taunting others, breaking things... If anything went wrong, people always either turned to Clyde and his friends, or Stan's group. He was a mischievous, harsh, blunt, lazy playboy, but the boy was also kind of a crybaby. While he didn't whine and cry as much as he used to in elementary school, Clyde still let out the occasional tear or two. Of course, he usually cried to guilt trip stubborn girls into going out with him or to manipulate people into giving him what he wants, but that was just Clyde for you. Nothing any better could really be expected from him.

When Mr. Garrison came around, the curly haired girl handed him the slip, which he pulled lazily out of her hand. He returned to his desk, collapsing in his chair and pulling the first piece of paper off of the pile.

"Okay, children, let's see... this one asks... 'Why... why is this class so gay?'" Bebe could hear the kids around her pull their hands and fingers to their mouths, trying to stifle laughs and smiles, not succeeding. The aging man continued to pull papers out of the stack commenting on how 'gay' the class was, getting more and more furious with each one.

Bebe spun around to look at Clyde and whispered harshly, "Clyde, what the hell did you write?"

"Shh... Don't interrupt Mr. Garrison, geez, Bebe," he responded, eyes twinkling playfully.

"Oh, children, here's a good one! 'What is your favorite fruit, and why?'"

After a short silence, Bebe raised her hand, thinking, _Oh, what the hell, someone has to say something. _"My favorite is strawberries, I guess because they're always really sweet. I've liked them since I can remember, actually." Red turned from her seat in the front row to agree with her.

"Strawberries are good, but not my favorite. I like cantaloupe the most, cause they're all soft on the inside and not on the rind."

Kenny made some juvenile statement about Butters being a fruit, making Bebe smile. Not after long Mr. Garrison moved on to another question, which she responded to, but was quiet when the teacher read the third question.

"This one's a good one. 'What do you do if you think you like someone (crush-wise) you just recently met, but you're pretty much positive they don't like you the same way?"

Bebe turned her head to look at Wendy, wondering if she had written the question. _No, couldn't be her... we definitely didn't just meet recently._

She listened to the responses, still curious about who could have written it. She figured the people who ask the questions probably wouldn't respond, so she ruled out Stan, Heidi and Red. She was going through her other classmates, trying to figure out who may have asked when Mr. Garrison pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Alright, that's enough of that now. Uh... you can have the rest of the hour to talk or something, just don't bug me too much." The man pulled out a slick, shiny copy of a People magazine issue, opening it and ignoring the class. Bebe smiled when Wendy took the recently vacant seat next to her, the black haired girl sighing and grinning back.

"Well, that was a lot less worse than I thought it would be."

"I know what you mean!" Bebe laughed, feeling more relaxed and looser than she was at the beginning of the day. "Hey, so... Which one did you write?"

"Me? Mr. Garrison didn't read mine, sadly. You?"

"Oh, Clyde handed me some bogus one. I'm pretty sure it was one of the ones saying that it was gay," she said, sighing and shaking her head at Clyde's unbelievably childish nature.

"Ugh. I thought it would be him."

"I know, right? So... you didn't write that one about the liking someone who didn't feel the same way, did you?"

"Huh? No... Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. I didn't think it was you, but it got me wondering who wrote it."

"Bebe, why do you think the questions were anonymous? So people wouldn't know who wrote it, duh," she said, smiling playfully at her girlfriend.

"I know that! That doesn't keep me from being curious though."

"I guess so. But oh well. Maybe we'll know someday, maybe we won't." The room was loud, but the two girls were silent, the both of them looking off in different directions, soft smiles grazed over their faces. "So... about that movie..."

Bebe grinned, her eyes coming alive. "Let's do it."

* * *

Sitting in front of her vanity mirror, Bebe watched carefully as she took a hot straightener and clamped her hair between the iron, pulling it slowly down the strands and being careful not to burn herself. When the tight curls were straight, they reached below her shoulder blades, much longer than where the tight, frizzy golden locks usually reached down to her shoulders. After much work and losing all the blood in her arms, Bebe ran a hand through her now long, straight, but still thick hair, savoring the feel of touching something other than her usual wild locks.

She spent a few moments turning her head side to side, adjusting this strand of hair here, pulling this lock there, making sure it looked okay before picking up a curling iron. She separated a part from the rest of her hair, tucking it into the iron and rolling it up the strand until it nearly reached her scalp, releasing the locks. They fell to her chest, the end of it loosely curled at the end and straight higher up. Bebe continued, gently re-curling her hair until it looked neat and elegant. She sighed, pushing earrings into her ears and pulling a couple of bracelets onto her arms. She thought it was funny that she was trying so hard to look good when she wasn't even sure she wanted to seriously date Wendy.

The blond pulled out her cell, checking the time, glad to see that she was running on time. Bebe pulled open the door, slipping out and heading for the door. She adjusted her skirt before laying a hand on the knob, turning around slightly. "Bye, Mom! I'm headed to the movies, gonna be back later."

"Alright, hon, have fun. Be safe now!" Bebe's mom stuck lifted her head where it was buried in a light novel, her blond bob bouncing with her movement.

The amber eyed girl pulled open the door, hit by a burst of cold. She instantly regretted wearing a skirt. However, the weather was hardly ever warm enough to wear a skirt anyway, so most girls wore them despite South Park's eternally freezing temperatures.

Bebe pulled her keys from her purse, clicking the unlock button and pulling open the driver's door. A wave of nervousness washed over her, and she had to take a moment to calm herself down before sticking the key into the ignition and turning on the car. It didn't take long for her to reach the theatre, where she got out and walked over to stand off to the side, ignoring the occasional wolf whistle or cat call.

"Hey, honey... How you doin'?" Bebe lifted her eyes to see Clyde looking at her with an almost animal like expression.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Aw, well that's good." A silence fell over the two of them, the brunette male leaning against the wall and looking down at the blond. She lifted a hand to tug her shirt up, feeling self-conscious at his eyes crawling down her figure.

"Do you need something, Clyde?" She asked, beginning to get irritated.

"You aren't even gonna ask me how I am? That's cold, baby."

"No, I'm not. And I'm not your baby."

"Dang, honey, you got sass!" Bebe resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "So you wanna go to a movie with me, doll face?"

"No, but thank you. I'm meeting someone here."

"Huh? Your boyfriend? I haven't heard anything about a boyfriend from the others."

"No, not my boyfriend."

"Then why is it such a big deal, Bebe?"

"You got a problem, Donovan?" Bebe felt an arm link with her own, and turned her head to see Wendy. She was shooting daggers from her purple eyes at the tall male, standing with her shoulders locked back tightly. The fierce look on the girl's face surprised Bebe, catching her way off guard.

"Hey, I'm busy here."

"Really. I'm sure you have better things to do than hit on innocent girls. She's not interested. I have no idea at what point you thought she was, but trust me, Bebe doesn't want you around, and neither do I. I advise you leave her alone, I'm not in the mood for you. Scat, fudge packer."

The brunette boy muttered something along the lines of, "God, get off your period," before turning and heading back to a group of guys.

Wendy tugged on the blond's arm, leading her over to the ticket box. An acne spotted teen stood behind the counter, leaning forward to speak into the microphone.

"Hi, welcome. We're glad to see you here today. What movie would you like to see?"

Wendy turned to Bebe, smiling slightly at her. "What do you want to watch, Bebe?"

"Anything is fine, it's totally up to you," she said, rummaging through her purse.

"Um... two tickets to 27 Dresses, please." Wendy produced a wallet quickly from her purse, giving the teenager enough money for both the girls.

"Hey, it's okay, I can pay for myself," Bebe protested, still searching for her wallet. Wendy simply smiled in return, otherwise ignoring the brown eyed girl. She exchanged the money for the two tickets, calling a sweet 'thank you' to the boy and pulling Bebe inside the theatre.

"Since you paid for the tickets, I'm going to pay for our snacks" The amber eyed girl walked toward the concession stand, pulling Wendy along with her.

"Hey, you don't need to."

"I want to though. Besides, I'd be surprised if you didn't spend all your money on our tickets," Bebe replied, looking at the black haired girl mischievously out of the corner of her eye.

"Well... okay, maybe not. But I'm paying you back then."

"Nope. You bought our tickets, I bought the snacks, so we're even."

"But-"

"I mean it, I want to pay for it. Don't worry about it! It's the least I could do. What do you want to have?"

"Nothing as long as you're paying for me..." Bebe sighed at the girl's stubbornness, smiling nonetheless, and produced her wallet. The golden haired girl pulled out a few bills from the girly pouch and dropped it back in her purse.

"Two cokes, popcorn and Skittles, please." She thanked the concession stand worker when he placed the snacks on the counter, giving the blond her change with a shaky, sweaty hand.

When they were down the hall, headed to the theatre, Wendy spoke up. "Why do you have to be so damn pretty?"

"I... what?"

"You're absolutely gorgeous, and pretty much everyone in the entire world knows."

"N-not at all... You're just saying that."

"Are you kidding? Clyde was was obviously hitting on you back there, and that concessions worker was totally checking you out. And I'm pretty sure that the ticket guy didn't was because he's totally gay."

"No way!"

"Way." Wendy turned to Bebe, smiling at the slightly taller girl. "I kinda wish guys didn't hit on you as much, but it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you..." she laughed, looking forward again and said, "Not that I could ever forget! I guess that's the good side of it."

Bebe felt a heavy blush rush into her cheeks, and did her best to fight it away, not succeeding. "That's not true at all..." Wendy sighed, shaking her head.

"I'll get you to accept it someday. I swear I will."

The two reached the theatre, Wendy pulling open the door for Bebe and following in after her. The smell inside was musty, covered with the overwhelming scent of butter and hot popcorn. Scattered through the theatre sat very few groups of girls and the occasional couple, chatting and gossiping loudly over the previews. The girl with the pin-straight hair began to walk over to the far-left side of the room, set on taking seats far away from others. However, Bebe lightly grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her to the center section of seats, much to her surprise. The seats the curly haired blond chose weren't exactly right up next to the other people in the theatre, but Wendy was still pleased. She was making progress.

Despite Bebe's unusually outgoing acts, her face still flushed when their arms brushed against each other, or when their fingers accidentally touched when they both went to grab a piece of popcorn. Most of these acts were deliberate on Wendy's part, accidental on Bebe's. The black haired girl couldn't help but smile at Bebe's uncharacteristic behavior. She thought it was funny how a girl who guys gushed over, drooled over, and doted upon could be so easily flustered. Wendy had begun to inch her hand back over to Bebe's intending to take it this time, before the amber brown eyed girl spoke up.

"Hey... isn't that Craig?" Wendy looked at Bebe, following her eyes to the right side of the theatre and a little in front of the two girls. Sure enough, there was his head of ebony hair. He occasionally pulled his eyes from the screen to look at the blond haired person next to him. The look on his face seemed to say that he was furious about what the thin figure next to him was saying, a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips on occasion.

"Who's that with him?" Wendy whispered, leaning closer to Bebe and looking back and forth between the two blonds.

"It's Tweek, isn't it?"

"Oh my god you're right. I didn't recognize him with his hair so neat..." The more she looked, the more she couldn't believe it was Tweek. his shirt was actually properly buttoned and ironed, not haphazardly fixed and lopsided like it usually was. His mass of neon yellow hair looked brushed and clean and actually like time and purpose had been put into it. But when he turned to glance at the screen, she recognized his little button nose and long, dark eyelashes.

"Tweek and Craig have been hanging out together a lot lately, huh?"

"Yeah, you're right. I've been helping them in the mornings to help write this music piece they've been working on.

"Really? Are you almost done?"

"Seems like it to me. We've gotten a pretty good amount done so far, I'll be surprised if we don't finish soon."

"Why are they writing the song in the first place?"

Wendy paused at this, pulling her eyes from Bebe's and turned instead to Tweek and Craig. "I... I actually have no idea. I don't think anyone has ever asked them why."

"Hm. That's weird..." Bebe trailed off, looking over to the two boys with Wendy, watching the smaller one flinch with his usual twitches and caffeinated ticks and the taller one smile gently. The two looked so natural together, their conversation seemed to be almost practiced, Tweek leaning back or to the side at just the right time, Craig gesturing with his hands, glancing at the screen now and then. For a second, Wendy felt almost a little jealous. "Hey, do you think they're together or something?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Wendy tore her purple eyes from the two to look at the blond girl to her right.

"Just... do you think they're dating? They seem super close all of a sudden in all. Like you said, they're writing a song together, I think I've seen them talking in class before, and now they're going to this gushy chick flick together." Bebe glanced back over at Wendy before turning her attention back to the two boys.

"Well... It's not impossible, I guess. Craig did date Stan after all, and Tweek doesn't actually seem like the straightest guy ever..."

"I know what you mean! He's like Butters, I just wanna dress him up or something." The two girls were silent until all of a sudden, Tweek threw a piece of popcorn high into the air and Craig arched his back to catch it. Not wanting to two to notice them, they pressed their fingers to their mouths, trying to stifle giggles. "Oh my god they're so cute," the hazelnut eyed girl whispered just before the lights dimmed.

The theatre quickly became quiet, the groups of girls quieting their fast talking and gossip, the other couples around them leaning their heads together, getting comfy in the slipping light. The black haired girl subtly scooted to the right side of her seat, getting just a little closer to Bebe. Overall it went well; the two turning to laugh to each other at the funny parts, sighing together at the sweet scenes, eyebrows furrowing at the sad or upsetting times. Somehow Wendy convinced Bebe at some point into the movie to hold her hand by subtle brushes and casual reaching. Eventually their fingers were tangled together, thumbs overlapping and fingertips occasionally reaching to massage the back of the other's hand.

Before they knew it the movie was over, and the credits had begun to scroll across the screen. The lights rose, and Bebe gently slipped her hand out of Wendy's. She stood up, picking up her drink and brushing off her skirt. She was mid-stretch, eyes rolling lazily down the credits when they fell on Craig and Tweek.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, Wendy, look!" She turned to Wendy, trying not to be too loud as to not catch the two boys' attention. Bebe turned back around, looking back at the ebony haired and blond headed males.

Wendy stood up as well, moving so she was right beside the amber eyed girl. "What? What is it?"

"Look at Craig and Tweek!'

The black haired girl looked over at the two, a hand flying up to her mouth to stifle a gasp and a quickly forming smile. "Oh, Bebe... They're so cute!" The two had their heads leaning towards each other, still sitting in the dirty red chairs even though the movie was over. Their hands were locked loosely together, Craig's long pianist fingers laying together with Tweek's shorter ones. In spite of Tweek's occasional twitch, the boys looked relaxed together, like they had been like this every single day of their lives. One would turn occasionally to say something softly to the other, eyes lingering for just slightly too long. Wendy and Bebe stood still and silent, just watching the couple. The girls jerked to life when Craig stood and turned in their direction to help pull Tweek up from his seat, doing their best to pretend like they hadn't just spent their last two minutes staring blatantly at the duo. Wendy and Bebe quickly gathered themselves; pulling their purses over their shoulders, picking up the popcorn, grabbing their drinks and heading for the door. They were careful to head out a different door than the boys, avoiding an awkward run-in.

The two made their way quickly across the tiled and black carpeted floor, stepping into the night air. Heather gray clouds were backed by a black sky, stars struggling to force their way through the cloudy night. Snow had started to fall to the ground, coming to rest on Wendy's long, dark hair and Bebe's shoulders. Her black hair contrasted nicely with the stark white snowflakes, both glimmering and gleaming in the quiet, sleepy light coming from nearby stores and the building behind them. Bebe could see the half moon reflected in her eyes when she looked up from searching in her purse, lighting up the amethyst irises beautifully. Wendy smiled at the honey blond in front of her, sighing out a cloud of airy mist.

"Thanks for going to the movie with me, Bebe. I dunno about you, but I had a really good time."

"No, I did too. It was totally my pleasure, I thought it was a lot of fun. I'm really glad you asked me to go with you."

Wendy laughed, "Who else would I ask?"

"Heidi, Red, Butters even. I'm definitely not your only friend, Wendy," the blond responded, a smile quickly forming on her face.

"Well, I guess... But that probably wouldn't be like this."

"I guess you're right. Anyway, I'd better be getting home. I don't want my mom to start worrying or anything."

"Alright. Text me or something, 'kay?"

"I will, don't worry."

"Okay. See ya, Bebe." Wendy smiled, turning and heading down the sidewalk to her car. The blond watched as the snow swirled around her, rolling down her back and playing at her fingers. The moonlight highlighted her hair, making it shine with a bluish white glow, and it almost seemed that the light made a gentle halo around her head. Bebe had to admit that the purple eyed girl looked beautiful, even from the back.

"Hey, Wendy?"

The pale girl spun around, a couple bits of snow falling from her dark locks, sparkling and falling to settle to the ground. "Yeah?"

"I just... thanks again."

Wendy smiled, waving goodbye to the curly haired girl. "Good night, Bebe."

* * *

**A/N:** Looking back over this, I noticed that this chapter was a little slow moving. The Bendy part is a little slow moving overall, but I decided I needed to put it in to kind of tie up loose ends and put in an external view of other couples, etc. This is a little late to be saying this too, but some of the parts of this story are kind of taken from my own life. Like, when Stan said in one of the earlier chapters when he was talking to Bebe about how he figured out he liked guys, that's pretty much how I figured out I wasn't straight either. I didn't notice it at the time, but when I looked back years later I thought, 'Huh. So that's where it really happened.' Also, at the end of this chapter when it was snowing after the movie, One of my clearest memories from when I was little was coming out of the movies late at night with huge snowflakes falling and the only real light coming from the streetlights. And as usual, if you read anything that didn't make sense or didn't match up to you, please let me know! Oh, since I updated so late, I'm going to update as usual this Sunday to make up for lost time, just as an fyi. I hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading, and I hope to see you Sunday!

Sorry this A/N was a little personal sounding, but I figured I would throw that little tidbit in.


	9. Maybe Not

**A/N:** Okay, this chapter is extra long, so I'm going to try to keep the A/N extra short. This chapter marks the end of the Bendy part of Knots, which in all truth was pretty much optional and not too plot-changing for the story, but still acted as a good filler. XD Before writing this I didn't even like Bendy that much, but writing about them made me actually kind of like them. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Bebe ruffled her hair, trying to make the straightness of it last longer before she went to sleep. She wrestled with her shirt for a moment, eventually pulling the red top over her head and dropping it carelessly onto the floor. The amber eyed girl tugged her skirt down her legs and stepped out of it, kicking it to the side. She walked to her dresser, wrenching open one of the lower drawers and picking the first pajama shirt and bottoms she saw. While throwing the clean clothes onto her bed, Bebe slipped the bracelets from her wrist, pulled out earrings, and tugged off rings, setting the accessories on her vanity. The shiny metal pieces made light clinking sounds as they tapped together and hit the desk, rolling and shifting slightly before sitting still.

After she had set her jewelery on the table, she tugged her tank top over her head, careful not to mess up her hair. After she was comfortable, Bebe stepped into the soft cotton pajama pants, pulling them up around her hips and loosely tying a bow with the tie around the top. Stepping outside her room and into the bathroom, Bebe brushed her teeth carefully and removed her makeup before washing and drying her face. Beyond exhausted, the thin girl dragged herself back into her room, toes brushing against the red carpet. Finally, Bebe sat on her bed and lifted the covers, swinging her legs underneath and leaning back. Her head hit the pillow with a quiet, muffled noise. Despite her being so tired, it took a good amount of time for her to fall asleep. Just when she was about to drift off, her eyes would open, waking her back up.

When sleep did finally claim her, it was not an easy one.

_"Bebe, you never seem to care about me any more. Not since after we started going out. Am I doing something wrong? Tell me what's wrong and I'll stop, I promise. Just don't be so cold like this, please." Wendy grasped Bebe's hands, her expression twisted in pain and sadness._

_"I'm just... I'm just nervous. I'm still trying to figure out if this is really want I want. I'm sorry, I just need a little more time."_

_"Bebe, it's been weeks though. Every time I try to touch you, you pull away and make some lame excuse for why you won't let me even hug you. Just let me do at least that."_

_"You're holding my hands right now, aren't you?"_

_"Yeah, because nobody is around! If we were even a foot into the hallway you would freak out and say that you're sick or need to get to class or something. It's tiring, Bebe, not being able to touch the people you like, you know?"_

_"I'm sorry, I just don't want to make a big deal out of something that I'm not even sure about yet. I don't want to start drama or rumors, and I don't want people to..."_

_"What, to judge you?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"Of course people will judge you! But Bebe, you've got it easy. You're popular, you're pretty, every guy in the entire school is totally crazy about you-"_

_"What, so that makes everything better? I'm supposed to be the cheer captain, nobody has heard of a cheerleading captain being a lesbian! My entire high school life could be ruined if this got out to the wrong people, Wendy."_

_"So you're worried about your image, is that it? Great, you're worried more about your cheer dances than you are about your feelings for me."_

_"I'm not even sure what my feelings for you are yet, Wendy! People aren't going to hesitate to bully me or you, you know that. It's not just cheerleading I'm worried about, I'm worried about people trying to mess with us. I'm worried about you just as much as I'm worried about me!"_

_"Oh, I'm sure. So you won't even hug me, because someone might think we're lesbians and ruin our lives. Seriously Bebe, friends hug all the time, guys and girls. I'm sure that nobody will suspect a thing if we do, too. You're making a huge deal about just touching me, Bebe, this is insane!"_

_"You're the one that's making a big deal out of it, not me! I don't mind holding your hand and everything when we're alone, but I do when we're out in public. Is it so much to ask to just not be all over you for just a little bit?"_

_"It wouldn't be, but you're taking it to the extreme, and then making poor excuses about it. The other day when you left and said you would be late to class? You had more than enough time, you could have gone to a room four floors down and be on time if you wanted. But your class was literally right down the hall. There was no chance in hell that you would have been late, Bebe, and you knew that. If you don't want to hold my hand or whatever then you should just tell me, not try to play it off as something else. That hurts even more!"_

_"I'm sorry, but I don't want to risk everything I've worked for something that may not even work out, excuse me!"_

_"God, stop saying that! The more you tell yourself it's not going to work out, the more you're going to believe it. How do you know it's not going to work, huh? You can't know until you give me a fucking chance! Don't just think-"_

_Wendy stopped when the sickly blue doors to their right clicked open and two figures stepped into the room. Craig and Tweek looked up from their feet and instead at the couple inside when they entered. The black haired girl did her best to fake a smile, not sure if the boys bought it. "Hey, Tweek, Craig! Here to work on the song?"_

_Tweek flinched, his caramel colored eyes wide and frightened looking, his hair tangled and knotted. The thin boy looked startlingly similar to a deer in headlights. "Yup, w-we're staying late today. Do you want to practice with us?" Despite the fright in his features, the blond boy sounded cheerful._

_"I would love to, but I should really get home. I'll be here Friday, though!" Wendy looped her arm through Bebe's, trying to prove a point to the suddenly shy girl. It didn't take long for them to get outside of the windowless room, stepping out into the hallway where Bebe forced her arm away from Wendy's. "See? They didn't say anything about it. They still think we're just friends, not lesbians, just because we touched each other. Now will you please calm the hell down and get rational?"_

_"Keep your voice down, Wendy! We're not the only ones in the hallway, you know." Bebe's eyes flickered nervously across the passing faces, trying to tell if any of them were listening in on the two girls._

_"Oh my god, Bebe."_

Bebe's eyes fluttered opened, awakened by her ugly dream and by the glaring sun glaring through her window. The snow made the light seem even brighter, making it difficult to not be awake. Light poured through the glass, reaching straight across the room and coming to rest where Bebe's head rested on her pillow, blond hair sprawled on the white sheets. Her manicured hands reached up to rub at her eyes, trying to forget the dream.

Normally, a dream like this wouldn't bother her so much, if it hadn't been more truth than fiction.

It hadn't been long after the two girls had started going out when Wendy pulled the two of them into the orchestra room and started complaining to Bebe about how she was suddenly anti-social, telling her to be more open and trusting. The blond knew that Wendy had a good point, but she just was not ready to be so open about their relationship.

After the fight that day, she really had decided to at least try to be a little more outgoing. Like her normal self. Bebe tried to tell herself that it was just exactly like how when they were friends, but now words like 'I love you' and 'you're beautiful' meant something more. Now kissing was okay, and hugs could be longer without being uncomfortable. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Bebe rolled out of bed, landing with an almost clumsily on her feet, standing up with her shoulders slouched. She ran a hand through her now half frizzy hair, instantly missing the loose curls from last night.

The amber eyed girl shuffled into the kitchen, half-heartedly toasting and slapping cream cheese over a bagel, throwing it onto a plate when it was done and taking tentative bites from it. Bebe glared over at her backpack that was sitting at the foot of the table, which was staring back up at her. She was about to take it to her room so she wouldn't have to look at it, and so she could step away from the bagel when her cell rang from inside her room. She stood, walking sleepily back to her room and grabbing the cell off her stand. Bebe moved to her bed, spun and collapsed onto it with her bag going first, sighing when she hit the mattress again."Hello?"

"Hey, Bebe? It's me."

"Oh, hey! I was just thinking about you," _It may have been about the time when we got in a fight and yelled at each other with nearly zero concern for those around us, but it was still about you, I guess,_ she thought.

"Ha, that's funny. What are you up to?"

"Nothing. Bored out of my mind, if that counts."

"I guess that counts." Bebe could nearly hear Wendy smiling on the other side. "So do you wanna not be bored?"

"Yeah, I guess that would be pretty cool," the blond responded, laughing.

"Cool. Do you want to come over later then? We could... I dunno, do homework or something."

"Well, that sure sounds exciting. Sure, what time do you want me over there?"

"Uh, whenever."

"Can I come in like... an hour or so?"

"Sounds good to me. See you in an hour then!"

"Bye bye, Wendy." Bebe moved her finger to the little red End button, clicking it once and moving quickly back to the number board. Using her thumbs, she typed in that number she knew so well and raised the phone to her ear. She listened as the dial tone cut off, and seven beeps sounded in her ear. The blond girl counted the rings as they passed, knowing exactly how long it would take him to pick up. One... two... three...

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kenny? Can I come over? I need to talk to someone."

* * *

Bebe stopped her car at the top of the street, right up next to the railroad tracks. She made sure to park a good ways away from Kenny's run down house, just in case one of his family members came home drunk. The last time someone parked right in front of the McCormick house, their car got completely wrecked. The last thing she wanted was a totaled car.

Her car door clicked open, and she stepped outside into the snowy lawn to her left, pushing the door shut again. The blond walked two houses over to the cracked, falling apart, junk surrounded house. The snow crunched under her feet as she walked across the lawn, passing a broken down refrigerator and a torn up, half-patched couch or two. She brushed herself off when she reached the door, and raised a hand to knock at it. A second after she pulled her knuckles away from the wood, a smashing noise sounded from the other side of the door.

The blond stepped back in fright, worried about what might be behind the slab of wood. She nearly jumped when the door swung open and Kenny stumbled out, his back facing Bebe. Glass was pooled around his feet and littered in his hood, tiny drops of blood flirting on some of the ends of his hair. He raised his hand to block an empty bottle that was hurled at the two of them, tripping a little from the contact.

"Dad, fucking knock it off! We have company!" Kenny stepped so he was shielding Bebe, trying to hide her both from his father and the state of the house. He swung his hand behind his back to lightly grab the back of Bebe's hand, but she wasn't sure whether that was for his or her benefit.

"Well, I'll be, whatcha doin' with such a pretty, young piece of ass like that, huh? I thought you was a fag, fag!" The twangy, slurred voice of Stuart McCormick rang in Bebe's ears, his harsh southern accent coming out of the house. Kenny raised his arms to block another bottle, but instead it hit the door frame to his right, littering the two of them with microscopic shards of glass and left over drops of beer.

"Fuck," the blond boy whispered under his breath. He slammed the door shut, blocking another glass grenade and produced a key, locking it as fast as he could. The blue eyed male spun and grabbed Bebe's hand more firmly, looking her in the eyes and quickly saying an apology. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind if I don't invite you in. Stark's Pond?"

Bebe could only stare at Kenny and nod her head, her mouth slightly fallen open. Without another word, Kenny took off, pulling the cheerleader behind him. Behind them, Stuart was still fiddling with the door, trying to unlock it and failing miserably. The two were already six houses away when the drunk man threw the door open and tripped with it out onto the snow. His voice still fell down harshly around them. "Don't think y'all's gonna git away so easy!" But it was empty threats, as the brunette was swaying back into the house and closing the door again behind himself.

The two slowed to a walk when Stewart didn't emerge again, catching their breath from their sprint. Kenny released her hand, raising it to rest on his chest instead. "Sorry, Bebe. I would have called to warn you, but he got home just a few minutes before you. I didn't really have all that much time to react."

"No, it's okay. I totally understand." Kenny bit his lip, clearly restraining from saying something. "No... No, I'm wrong. I don't understand. I don't understand at all. Kenny, do you want to talk instead of me?"

"Let's get to the pond first."

The walk was quiet other than the crunching of snow under their feet, their breath still coming out in ragged gasps. It didn't take long for them to reach the pine tree surrounded pond, Kenny walking over to the wooden bench. He brushed it off and sat down, turning to look at Bebe and patting the spot beside him. She took the invitation, walking across the snowy ground and taking the seat next to the unfortunate blond boy.

"Okay, Kenny, now why don't you- oh my god, your head!" Kenny looked confused, but raised his hand to his head. He pulled it away and found a large spot of blood left on his fingers. Bebe leaned forward, moving his blood coated hair to try to get a good look at the cut.

"Bebe, it's really okay. Don't worry about it. I'll probably be back to one hundred percent tomorrow, it really doesn't matter," he said, trying to brush her thin hands away.

"But it does! One of my friends are hurt, it matters. We need to get you to a doctor or something!"

"Really, I'll be fine. You're sweet, but honestly, it doesn't matter. I can't feel a thing."

"Which is probably bad! We should at least get it cleaned up."

"I'll get a rag on it when I get home, don't worry."

"You can't go home like this, either..."

"Then I'll swing by Harbucks or something, Tweek will probably help me out. I'll be fine, Bebe. You don't need to worry so much, this kind of stuff happens all the time."

"It shouldn't though..." Bebe sat back into the bench, looking at Kenny with worry and sympathy. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No... we came here so you could talk. So you should."

"Please, what I was going to talk about seems tiny and stupid compared to this. I actually shouldn't be complaining, I should be happy with what I have."

"Well, will you talk about it after I talk?"

"Maybe."

"...Fine. I don't really know what to say about... this whole thing though."

"Anything you want to. This time I'll be the one doing the listening instead of the talking. I know people come to you all the time with your problems, and it must be tiring. I feel bad. You probably have the worst problems out of everyone in South Park, and you do the least talking about them."

"Probably not the worst..."

"Oh, no, I'm sure you do. Now I want you to talk about it. It's bad for you to keep it all pent up, as I'm sure you know. So... uh... tell me all about it."

"Um... my parents are alcoholics. The end."

"Definitely not the end. Keep going."

"Okay. My parents are alcoholics, into hard drugs, and abusive. The end."

"Again, most definitely not the end. There's more, and you know it."

"Fine. Uh... fuck, I'm still not sure where to start." Kenny paused, clearly in deep thought. The boy looked through his blond hair across the frozen lake, trying to find the right words."Um... My parents have been abusive and drunks since I could remember. They always came home reeking of alcohol or smoke, most times both. I used to lock myself in the bathroom, my bedroom, sometimes I would run away to Stan or Kyle's house. They would understand, and let me stay over for a day or two. Without them, I probably wouldn't be alive today. Or I would be a drunk or a junkie or something, I don't know. But I definitely wouldn't be like how I am today.

"I guess it wasn't too difficult after a while. I got accustomed to my parents coming home drunk or high or whatever. It got... less startling, I guess. I kind of ended up expecting it after a while, it was weird to have them not be hammered. it just became... Normal. Sure, it still hurt to be hit, or to have stuff thrown at me, or to be yelled at, but I expected it. My siblings feel the exact same way. Sometimes we sit around and try to imagine what life would be like if we lived like our friends did, in a house where parents drank in moderation and didn't come home stinking of drugs. It was a game that was both hilarious and... I dunno, just heartbreaking at the same time.

"When I go to school and see kids skipping school to go do drugs or drink or whatever, I just get so pissed off. I also get mad when people complain about their parents, or how bad they think their life is. I mean- not like how you wanted to. It's fine to want to talk about your problems now and then, but when people complain all the time... It just makes me want to strangle someone. Preferably them. It's just so... infuriating. Like, I want to scream at them. Tell them they could be starving, or living on the streets, or fatally ill. I know I don't have the worst life in the world, but I certainly don't have the best. And maybe those people have a rough life too, but usually when I meet someone who complains about their life all the time has it easier than they think. I just..." Kenny stopped, sighing and looking down at his knees. He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his bloody head, his shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry. I'll stop talking now. So, uh... what did you have to say again?"

"No, no. After that I don't even want to talk about my problems. Yours are in a totally different world, don't even worry about me. Anything else you want to say? Remember, I'm just here to listen."

"Well... what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Just dumb Wendy problems."

"Hey, they're not dumb... relationship problems are just as serious as any other kind of problems. I don't want to talk about myself any more, so feel free to say something if you want to."

"I was just going to complain about how Wendy's always all touchy-feely and stuff... She doesn't realize that maybe I don't want to be touched in public like that. She's practically all over me in school and when we go someplace. And I try to just kind of go with it, but it's not easy. I'm not sure who I want to know about our... relationship yet, and she's just... Like, she knows that I'm not ready to tell the whole damn town about how we're dating quite yet, and she just ignores it. Is it really so much to ask that for just like, two minutes she isn't clinging to my hand or something?" Bebe groaned, realizing how much she had said. "I'm sorry... I say I'm not going to say too much and all of a sudden I'm telling you every last detail. Sorry, Kenny."

"Don't be sorry, I'm here to help. It's just like you said- it's bad to keep things bottled up. But... Well, why do you think Wendy is wanting to hold your hand and things like that?"

"I dunno, I think that she thinks because we're going out now, it's what we're supposed to do. But I don't want to do things like that, not yet. I'm actually not really sure why she wants to do it."

"So... you're still not sure that you want to date her, right?"

"Yeah. She was pleading me to give her a chance, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to just try, but now I'm worried that my high school future is on the line."

"Bebe, maybe the reason Wendy wants to hold your hand and be close to you is because she's scared that you might leave her before she even gets the chance to be close to you. I mean, hold your hand and stuff. She's probably scared that if you aren't sure that you really want to date her, that she'll never even get close to acting like real girlfriends. Wendy knows that there's a chance that you could leave her any second, and I wouldn't be surprised if that scares her."

Bebe thought about this for several moments, and decided Kenny was right. Suddenly, she felt a surge of guilt wash over her as she thought about all the times she had shoved Wendy away, concerned only for her image and not for how Wendy felt. "Oh my god... Kenny, you're totally right... Oh my god, I've been acting like such a bitch!"

"Not really." Kenny placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling. "You just didn't know what Wendy was feeling. And that's alright. We can't be expected to know exactly what another person is thinking or how they're feeling. You're not psychic and you're only human, as far as I know. Don't take it too hard, okay?"

"I mean, I guess... But she's my girlfriend! She's also been my best friend since like, forever. I should have at least been able to figure out that she didn't want to act like a couple just for the sake of acting like a couple."

"See, you're still taking it too hard!" The honey haired boy stopped, looking carefully at Bebe. "You know, I think you should probably talk to Wendy, not just to me."

'I think you're- oh, shit! Speaking of Wendy, I'm supposed to be at her house, like..." Bebe produced her phone from her pocket, checking the time. "Uh, now. God, I'm sorry again, Kenny, but I really have to run."

"Don't sweat it, doll. Tell her I say hi, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Kenny. You're a dear." Bebe quickly leaned across the bench to hug Kenny before standing up, brushing herself off, and rushing to her car. "Bye, Kenny! And get that thing looked at, okay?" The thin male waved, his orange jacket rustling with the movement. The inside of the hood was spotted with blood from the gash on the right side of his head, but the blond still seemed to be in no rush to clean the cut up.

Bebe nearly slipped in the rush to get to her car, but quickly composed herself and continued to run as fast as she could in her boots. As soon as she reached the car the tugged on the handle, forgetting to unlock it. She fumbled insider her purse, looking for her key, nearly dropping it when she found it. She stabbed her car several times until getting the key inside the lock on the handle, successfully unlocking the door and slipping inside. The blond girl shoved the key in the ignition, twisting it hastily and jumping the car to life. Bebe pulled into the McCormick driveway, quickly displaying her middle finger to the back of Kenny's dad, who could be seen clearly from the window and was currently taking a large swig from a bottle of what seemed to be vodka.

"It's hardly after noon... Show some self-restraint, dick," she muttered under her breath, turning around in her seat and backing out into the street. The railroad tracks bumped loudly under her tires as she sped over them, getting back to her house as quickly as possible. She pulled up in front of her house, her car crooked in the street. The curly haired girl tripped as she got out of the vehicle, nearly falling face first onto the ice coated pavement. Bebe quickly composed herself, leaving her car door open as she ran up to the house, unlocking the door and slipping inside. Her amber eyes searched for a clock as she hurriedly approached her backpack, not pleased with what it told her. She threw the bag over her shoulder and shut the door quickly again behind her, almost forgetting to lock it and pull the key from the knob. Bebe groaned as she felt the snow seep through her shoes, trying her best to cross the lawn on tiptoes. When she got back inside her car, she tossed her backpack into the back seat and slammed the door behind her, jamming the keys into the ignition and pulling away from the curb.

Bebe muttered profanities as she pulled several possibly illegal maneuvers on the way to Wendy's house, weaving around corners and almost running several red lights. Soon enough she reached the olive colored house. Her back twisted to pull her bag from the back and throwing it over her shoulder. She tried to act composed as she followed the concrete path to Wendy's porch. Bebe rang the doorbell, waiting for an answer. After several moments, a soft click sounded from behind it and Wendy pulled the slab of wood open and welcomed her in.

"Hey, Bebe. I thought you wouldn't show up. Why are so late?"

"Hi. Sorry, I was talking with Kenny and didn't realize the time. I hope you're not mad."

"Of course not! I'm just glad you're here. So what do you want to work on first? Garrison assigned some world history and math homework, we can probably do boy pretty quickly."

"Uh... Would you mind helping me with the world history? I actually think I understood the calculus this time, believe it or not."

"Sure. You can set your bag over by the couch." Wendy turned back to the door, shutting and locking it again as Bebe pulled off her snow-soaked boots. The two girls walked over to the brown seats and taking their seats. The black haired girl already had her books and papers spread out on the table before them, each paper marked with neat, tight handwriting. With one hand she collected the papers and shoved the books aside, with the other producing a hair tie from her pocket. As Bebe pulled a folder and book from her bag, sorting out what she needed, Wendy fixed her long hair into a loose and slightly crooked bun.

"Okay. What do you need help with?"

"First, what are the essay topics? I think when Mr. Garrison was telling them to us, Clyde was shooting spitballs at my head or something, 'cause I didn't write it down anywhere."

"Um... The possible topics are on London's business, immigration to England, and different culture groups in England."

"Any idea what he's going to pick?"

"Well, the one on London is the shortest one, so I would bet that one," she said a half-smile forming on her lips.

"Ha, I'd bet, knowing him. And then... Did you get number ten on this sheet?"

"Oh, that one..." Wendy trailed off, studying the question on the paper Bebe had produced. "Yeah, that one was weird. It was in one of the captions under the pictures. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be the River Thames."

"Alright... What page was that on?"

"Um..." the purple eyed girl reached for her textbook, flipping the pages quickly before stopping, turning the pages one by one until she reached the one she was looking for. "Page two hundred and sixteen."

"Thanks. And..." Bebe stopped, setting down her pen and turning to the black haired girl beside her, finally speaking up again after several moments, "Do you have any... uh... Cheesy Poofs?"

"Cheesy Poofs? I think so." Wendy leaned forward, calling into the kitchen. "Hey, Mom? We have Cheesy Poofs, right?'

"Yeah, they're in the cupboard," a voice responded.

"Do you want some?"

"Uh... Do you have any Snacky S'mores?"

"Those are Cartman's favorite foods, you know that, right? But no, I don't think so. Dad hates them, so we never get any."

"I think I'm going to go buy some then. Will you come with me?"

"Uh, y-yeah... Sure."

Bebe shut her book, tucking her papers back insider her purple folder and standing up. Wendy stood up after her, still confused, but following the blond either way. Wendy unlocked and opened the door for Bebe, stepping out onto her porch after the curly haired blond had gone through. She shut the slab of wood behind her, walking next to Bebe as they crossed the lawn and reached the sidwalk.

"So what's with this sudden urge for Snacky S'mores?"

"I dunno. I just kinda... wanted some, I guess."

Wendy accepted this explanation, not questioning the cheerleading captain any further. Silence fell over the two girls as they passed house after house, ignoring the cold that gripped at their skin. Bebe's eyes opened wide when she saw a head of blond hair approaching, and she casually slipped her hand inside of Wendy's.

The black haired girl turned her head, opening her mouth to question Bebe, but getting cut off.

"Well hey there, Wendy, Bebe! Fine day, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's real nice out, Butters."

"Hey, why are you two holdin' hands like that?"

"Cuz she's my girlfriend. Why wouldn't I hold her hand?" Two jaws dropped at Bebe, the champagne haired boy and thin girl unable to find any words. "C'ya, Butters."

"Uh... bye bye, I guess."

Bebe stepped around Butters, pulling Wendy along with her.

"Bebe? Are you feeling alright?"

"Never felt better, Wendy." They kept walking, the cheerleader keeping her head high and facing forward, the ebony haired girl's head turned and looking at the girl to her left. Her lips were moving, trying their best to form words, but failing miserably.

Quickly approaching was a black haired boy in a blue cap, his eyes fixed on his feet meeting the pavement below. He looked up when he nearly ran into the two girls, muttering a quick apology before noticing their intertwined hands. "Uh... Hi. What's up with the hand holding? It isn't _that _cold..."

"She's my girlfriend, I'm supposed to hold her hand."

"Oh. I see. Uh, that's cool." Craig stared at Bebe, and then Wendy, trying to figure out if the blond was telling the truth or not. He seemed to have reached a consensus when he pulled to the side, letting the two pass.

When Craig was out of earshot, Wendy finally spoke up. "Bebe, is something wrong with you? Seriously, what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing. I just made a decision is all."

For the rest of the walk, Wendy kept her head down, trying her best to hide the light blush that had formed over her cheeks. She only looked up when one of South Park's citizens approached them, asking a question about why they were holding hands, quickly stunned by Bebe's answer, dropping her eyes again when the girls moved on.

After what felt like an eternity to the black haired girl, they reached the convenience store, stepping through the door. Even after the little bell rang as they entered, Bebe did not drop Wendy's hand, pulling the black haired girl with her as she pulled a row of chips. Wendy watched her as amber eyes dragged lazily over rows of bags, faking interest.

'You didn't really want Snacky S'mores, did you?"

"Not one bit. I hate those things, they're disgusting."

"Oh. Okay. So... So you're..." Wendy was unable to even complete her sentence, trailing off at the thought of asking the beautiful cheerleader the question.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I want to go out with you, and I don't want to hide it. Not anymore. Kenny kinda opened my eyes, I guess."

"So you were talking about us when you were with him?"

"Uh huh. He made me realize that I was being a total bitch and a half. I mean, I really only cared about what people would think about me. I never stopped to think about how you felt. I was being selfish and stupid, and I'm really sorry about that. I really hope you can forgive me for being such an idiot."

"But... I mean, are you really sure? You made the decision so fast... What if people do judge us? What if they're totally asses, and it becomes too much to bear? What if it becomes so bad we end up breaking up?"

"That won't happen. I won't let that happen, I promise. I don't care what people think about me anymore, they can think what ever the hell they want. All that matters is that I'm happy, everyone else can go fuck off. They don't have control over what I do or what decisions I make, and that's their problem. I know people will probably judge us, and that's totally fine. They have their opinion, and it doesn't matter to me. I won't let them ruin something that makes me happy, no matter how much they bitch and complain."

"I... Um... Wow. And an hour with Kenny made you decide all this?"

"Yeah. You see, I learned something today. Kenny has a super rough life. He puts up with drunk heroine addicts, takes care of his siblings, takes care of school, and takes care of others all at the same time. I go to him all the time to whine about my life, and I never stopped to think about his. But he had it way worse than I did, and he seemed totally happy. He had friends, he had family, I guess, and he was still probably one of the most popular guys in school. Cartman and lots of other people are almost always on his back about how poor he is and how his parents totally suck, and he's still alive, right? If Kenny can put up with all that, I can put up with a couple people being dicks."

"Are you sure? Kenny isn't exactly like everyone else... Remember that Kenny pretty much was born with a sucky life, he's more accustomed to all the shit he gets... Are you totally sure?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm not going to let them get to us, I promise." Bebe laughed before continuing, "Why are you so intent on convincing me that it won't be okay all of a sudden?"

"No, no I'm not! I'm just making sure that you're absolutely positive you want to do this."

"Don't worry, I'm sure."

Wendy stared at Bebe, trying to decide whether to trust her or not, before a relieved smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "So does that mean-"

"Hey, are you lesbos gonna buy something, or not?" The two girls turned to see Clyde leaning his elbow on the counter, bent over to rest his head in his cupped hand. His expression was clearly uninterested and bored with the girls.

"Oh, shut up, Clyde."

"Sorry, couldn't help myself. So you two are like a... thing?" Clyde asked, making motions with his hand as if trying to clarify his question.

"Well, yeah. Were you conscious for the last three minutes?"

"Ha. You bet I was. That's weak though, Bebe. Seriously."

"What? Why?" Bebe shrieked, her face flushing a bit with anger.

"Dude, super weak. Did you realize like, at all that I was..."

"What? That you were what?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter."

"But... ugh, whatever. You're weird, Clyde."

"Yeah, I know," he said, standing up straight and stretching. "Anyway, you should probably either buy something or leave. People are kinda staring." Sure enough, people were poking their heads around corners, a couple students standing at the door and watching them.

"Uh... We'll just leave, thanks."

The highschool students standing in front of the metal and glass door stepped aside to let Wendy and Bebe by, the little bell jingling as they left the dirty convenience store. Bebe grabbed the black haired girl's hand again, the only source of warmth in the cold winter air.

"So, uh... what do you want to do now?" Wendy turned her purple eyes to look shyly at the beautiful blond girl to her side.

"Let's go on a date. A real one. No more excuses for not holding hands or hugging. We'll do whatever you want to do, and we'll stand where we can be seen. What do you say?"

"Yeah... yeah. That would be nice."

* * *

**A/N:** Yaaay for happy endings! Thank you very much for reading, and I'll see you next Sunday! The last segment will be a mixture of Cryde and Staig.


	10. Kiss of Death

**A/N: **Before I really get into the story, or even the Author's Notes, please read this! Rumanya reminded me that I hadn't yet explained what's happening in this chapter, or even explained what's really happened in the past nine chapters very well yet, so I'm going to do that now. The first nine chapters are all set at about the same time, some set a little earlier and some a little later than others. The first four are about Craig and Tweek, the next three about Stan and Kyle, and the final two are about Bebe and Wendy (but I bet you already knew all that, haha). The Creek part starts just a little before the parts about Stan, Kyle, Bebe and Wendy, but they all include different views or experiences of the same events. Starting here, these final few chapters with Clyde, Stan and Craig as main characters are set about a year before the first nine chapters. These will help tie loose ends together, explain unexplained things or events, and just overall help clarify the entire story and why everything has happened the way it did. Explaining Tweek's absence here, since this is set before the first nine chapters, Tweek is largely out of the story now since they technically haven't met yet in the story timeline.

(Now onto the real A/N!) Haha, writing these next couple chapters took me a very long time. I knew going into this story that I would have a lot of trouble with these last few, not only because they're the last handful of chapters in the whole story (cries), but because they also have a lot of football in them. Which I know absolutely nothing about. Half the time I was working on this was spent looking up football positions and terms and who does what... It got pretty trying after a while! Chapter updates have also finally caught up with how much I had written for NaNoWriMo... (Yeah, once I reached 50,000 I got lazy and took a [very long] break from writing new material for it.) So now I'll have to actually do writing as well as editing, haha! But I digress. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you have enjoyed Knots, and that you'll stick around with me for these very last chapters!

* * *

"Craig, haul ass! Quit screwin' around and get moving!"  
His lungs and arms were burning, his breathing stressed and hasty, feet tearing up the grass under his feet and throwing the muddy earth far behind him. The small amount of snow that was falling from the cloudy sky blurred past him as he sprinted as fast as he could, his skin stinging as the small flakes pressed into his bare arms and snuck their way into his eyes. Even after he crossed the two thick, white lines, the adrenaline was pumping though his veins, his face hot from the rush. The black haired boy's arms and shoulders went limp as he turned and walked back onto the white and brown field.  
"How was that, Coach Adler?" the ebony haired boy said between gasps for frozen air.

"Could have been better," The large man called from across the torn grass, "I still think that's not the fastest you can go, but we'll work on that. Let's try that again, and this time, do what you can to _not _be slow, Tucker."

Craig jogged lazily back to the center of the field, tossing the ball to Bradley and moving so he was behind the two boys who had lined up one after the other. His heart was thumping loudly inside his chest, waiting for the blond male to throw the brown ball back into the strong hands of Stan Marsh. Craig's breath clouded in front of his mouth, mingling in the cold air before disappearing.

After several heartbeats, Bradly snapped the ball back into Stan's arms, and when the raven haired male felt it hit his hands, he straightened up and started getting ready. As soon as he heard the almond shaped ball hit Stan's palms, Crag shot forward, his head turned to look back at the quarterback. He could see Stan calculating his throw, thinking about how he would throw it, deciding how far, how high, how fast he would have to put it to reach Craig. After a moment, Stan threw his arm forward, his fingers brushing the brown skin as it left his hand. Craig's blue eyes followed the ball, his hands extending to catch it. Finally, he felt the dull, aching pain as the hard pass reached him, turning his upper body to face forward, tucking the ball under his arm. His feet hit the ground harder and harder as he accelerated, the wind whistling in his ear as he tore through it. Craig had reached the point at where he wasn't worried about if he would trip, only how fast he was going, and if he could go faster. His sense for danger was completely turned off. His breath picked up with his feet, growing shorter and more desperate until he thought his lungs would burst. Beads of sweat dripped down his neck, still hot even though the temperature on the field had to be below zero. Finally, Craig passed over the goal line, gasping for breath and bending to rest his hands on his knees. His black eyebrows knit together in pain and exhaustion, trying to get as much air into his shot system as possible.

When he felt he had enough oxygen in his body, he stood up straight and turned back to face the field. "How was that, Coach?" Craig yelled, beginning to walk slowly towards the beefy man.

"Better. I still think you could do faster if you quit screwin' around, but you're getting better, Craig." Mr. Adler called and turned back to face the group of boys sitting on the sidelines. The built football players were gnawing on the tops of water bottles, flicking their eyes back and forth between Stan, Bradley and Craig, or shoving each other playfully on their chests. "That's enough for today, boys. Go home and do your homework or whatever. I'd see you again here tomorrow, you hear that?"

"Yes, coach!" Came the chorus from the highschool boys, standing up and brushing the snow and dead grass off their backs and bottoms. Most of the teens turned to go inside the building, the only two staying behind being two tall, blond and brunette boys. Craig met up with Stan on the field as they started to go in, soon reaching the two other boys that were waiting for them.

"Dude, I don't care what Coach Adler says, you were trucking out there. I'm pretty sure Kenny can't even go that fast."

"It's true, dude," Kenny agreed when they reached him. "That was insane. I could hardly see you, you were going so fast it was just like, shocking. You ever thought about track?"

"Nah... Too much straight running. Not enough action."

"Fag."

"Ha. Yeah, whatever. We all know you're the fudge packer here" Craig laughed, punching Kenny lightly in the arm.

"Uh-huh, you wish, ass pirate." The honey haired male shoved him back, a smirk playing at his lips. "Seriously though, you were wicked out there. Don't listen to Adler, he's a dick."

"Nah, he's right. I could go faster."

"Craig, I don't think any human being alive could go faster, give yourself a break. We're gonna wreck North Park next game with you as our running back. They won't stand a chance."

"Thanks, blondie. I needed that."

"So what are you guys doing now?" Stan spoke up, turning his head to look at the three boys to his right.

"I thought we were going to Cartman's to play video games and do homework and totally wreck his house." Clyde spoke up, looking at Stan, his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Oh, shit, that's right. I totally forgot."

"How do you forget that?"

"Sorry, I was spacing a little," Stan said, laughing sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it. Hey, Craig, do you think you could give me a ride over there? I walked to school today."

"Yeah, I've got ya covered."

"Kenny, you need a ride?" Stan turned his ocean colored eyes to the tall blond, knowing that the poor boy would probably need one from the raven haired male.

"Nah, dude, I'm good. I actually brought Rusty to school today, surprisingly enough. Do you think you could drive me here tomorrow though?"

"No problem. But are you sure you'll be alright, driving in that hearse?" Stan pushed open the door to the school, holding it open for the three other teens. The four of them stepped into the harshly lit hallway, stepping into the nearby locker rooms. The second they entered, Clyde and Kenny began peeling off their shirts.

"Har-de har, Stan." Kenny known for being a reckless and wild driver, to say the least (the last time anyone rode in his car was to a party, but they showed up so sick and unsteady they thought the passenger had already done some pre-partying drinking). However, Rusty wasn't infamous for only his driver. True to its name, the car was covered in patches of rust, scrapes and scratches, chipped paint, and disfiguring dents. "You showering today, Tucker? Or are you gonna skip out? Again."

"Yeah, I'm showering. I'm pretty sure Cartman would never let me hear the end of it if I showed up at his house smelling like a sweat rag. He probably wouldn't even let me inside."

"Ha. You don't know the half of it," Kenny said, laughing coldly.

Stan and Craig waited until they reached their lockers to begin taking off their jerseys and pulling off their cleats. By the time they reached the locker room, every shower was spoken for, the water from each faucet turned on as cold as it would go. Craig and Stan sighed, leaning against the wall next to Clyde and Kenny.

"Fuck, we need to get in faster."

"Hey, it's not Craig's fault that Coach likes to nit pick every single move he makes," Stan said, defending the ebony haired male to his left.

"Well, that's true at least. I think Mr. Adler has the hots for you, Craig. I swear, he just stares at your ass whenever you're in a play. He's totally homo, and he wants in your pants."

"Shut up, Kenny. Only you would think of something that perverted," Clyde said, bumping Kenny's shoulder lightly.

"Very true, thank you for noticing. Still, Adler is kind of totally obsessed with you. It's a little sickening. It's like you're one of, if not the very best player on the team and he's still like, Craig, you're not fast enough, Craig, turn like this to catch a pass, Craig, lean over more so I can get a better look at your hot ass."

"Again, Kenny?" Clyde rose a brunette eyebrow at the tall boy, but still smiling.

"It's pretty much what he's saying!"

"Can we... I dunno, _not _talk about how Mr. Adler wants my body? That would be cool," Craig said, laughing under his breath.

"Sorry, dude. It's just really hard to ignore how totally nuts he is over you."

"Kenny's right though, he is kind of crazy over you," Stan added from Craig's left.

"Whatever, you guys are just imagining that."

"If you say so, Craig. If you say so."

The four of them sat there until one by one, the football players in the showers filed out of the slippery, pink tiled room, drops of water clinging to their hair and dripping to their shoulders. Kenny, Clyde, Craig and Stan filed into the soaked room, slinging their towels over the neck of the faucet and turning on the ice cold water. Their fingers curled into claws, they scrubbed at their sweaty hair and bodies, trying their best to wash away the dirt and grime left from the tiring practice.

All through his shower, Craig felt uncomfortable beyond words. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up straight, and it wasn't just from the cold water pouring over his shoulders. He felt eyes. Crawling down his arms, trailing down his back, running down his legs, pooling at his feet, he felt eyes. Even still, he kept his own closed, facing toward the pink tiles and shiny, metal faucet, trying his best to distract himself from the uncomfortable sensation..

The ebony haired male did his best to wash himself quickly and get out of the dripping room, tracking dark footprints from the showers back to his locker once he was finished. Craig ruffled his hair with the thin, white towel, half-heartedly dragging it over his arms, abdomen, over his knees and feet. His bag rustled as he pulled out his spare clothes, pulling his shirt lazily over his head and shoving his legs into his pants. Slinging his towel over his shoulder, Craig grabbed the dirty jersey and pants, shoving them back into his plain, red drawstring bag.

"Hey, dude. Ready to go?" Clyde appeared to the black haired boy's side, hair still dripping water onto his t-shirt.

"You're clearly not," Craig responded, grabbing the towel from his shoulder and throwing it over Clyde's head, rubbing the boy's brunette hair.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm dressed, that's all that really matters."

"I mean I guess. Doesn't mean you can't dry your hair though." Craig lifted the towel, checking to see if Clyde's hair was still dripping. The agate eyed male smiling up at the tall pianist from under the thin, scratchy fabric.

"You're good," Craig said, dropping the towel and letting it hit Clyde in his face.

"Hey! Rude!"

"C'mon, let's go, shorty," The black haired male laughed as he passed by Clyde, patting his damp shoulder.

"I'm only like, two inches shorter than you, ass face," he retorted, pulling the towel off of his head and throwing it at Craig.

"Right, right. If you say so. Let's go now."

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

It didn't take them long to get out of the locker room, walking down the slick linoleum tiled hall, being careful not to slip on the wet floor. Instead of turning left, towards the field, they turned to the right, winding around several corners and making their way towards the parking lot.

The two boys stepped out into the winter air, the frigid temperature freezing their hair, making them start to shiver the tiniest bit. Clyde slipped his hands inside his jacket pocket, huddling down into the fuzzy, brown coat. Craig refused to admit he was cold, standing up straight and walking normally, despite the hair standing up on his arms and the fact that his nose was already starting to turn red. The black haired male quickly unlocked his car when they reached it, the two of them wrenching open the doors and shuffling onto the frozen leather seats. Before turning on the metal can, Craig grabbed his blue earflap cap over his head, tugging at the poofball on the top a little.

"Wait, are you sure this is okay? Don't you only have like, a restricted license?"

"Whatever, I don't care. South Park cops don't do shit anyway, we'll be fine," he responded as he twisted his body, backing out of the parking space.

"I guess that's true." Clyde turned his head, looking out across the snowy ground and white-capped trees. He rested his forehead against the window glass, the area around where the skin came in contact with it fogging up.

The ride was silent for the most part, interrupted only by an occasional sniff from one of the boys, or the sound of papers and books shuffling in the back seat when the car hit a bump. It took only moments for them to reach Cartman's busy looking house, stopping the car a couple houses down from Cartman's place.

"Kay. Let's go."

"Hey, Craig."

The black haired boy turned and settled slightly back into his seat, not bothering to shut the door he had opened all the way. "Yeah? What's up?"

"We should totally go out. I'm so into you," the brunette said, lips curled in a hint of a smirk.

"Whatever, dude," Craig laughed, moving for the door again. He pushed it back open, stepping into a deep snowdrift, shivering when the snowflakes melted quickly and soaked his pant legs. "Come on, we have video games to play and asses to wreck."

Clyde chucked and popped his car door open, jumping onto the ice-coated street and shoving the silver sheet of metal behind him. They met around the front of the car, Clyde pulling a gloved hand from his pocked to shove playfully at Craig's shoulder, the tall running back leaning as he walked to bump into Clyde.

"Ding dong," the amber eyed boy said as he pushed at Cartman's doorbell, rocking on his heels as they waited for someone to answer.

"God, took you long enough," was the warm welcome they got from Eric Cartman when Kenny pulled open the door. "What took you so long, fags? Going for a quickie in the back seat of your crappy car, huh, Craig?"

"Shut up, fatass. Hey, guys."

"Hi, Clyde" or "Hey, Craig" chorused from the room. Those not playing the game looked and waved at the two boys in the doorway, smiles gracing their lips. However, the boys with the controllers only turning their head in recognition, not peeling their eyes from the screen, only murmuring a greeting in their focus. The couch was already taken by Kenny, Stan, Cartman and Butters, and on the floor sat Token and Kyle. The honey haired male sat on the end, his left arm slung behind the couch, resting over Stan's shoulders. Butters sat on Cartman's side, shyly sitting with his knees tucked together and his hands on his thin thighs. The large brunette sat to the left of Stan, sitting lazily back into the plush couch.

Clyde tugged off his jacket, throwing it into a corner carelessly, ignoring the coat hanger just outside the door and moving to sit with the boys on the floor. The blue eyed pianist sighed and shook his head, following the brown haired male over to the far side of the couch, sitting so his back was leaning against Kenny's legs.

"Hey, kiddo. How are ya?" the blond behind him asked, patting the top of Craig's black haired head a couple of times.

"Pretty good. And yourself?" Craig leaned his head back onto Kenny's knees to look at him.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," the sapphire eyed male replied, looking back up at the screen in front of them. Craig's eyebrows furrowed in worry, but he moved his head to look back at the game going on anyway. He could never trust Kenny when he said he was doing well, because he _always _said he was doing well. After a while it got suspicious, but Craig figured that the blond just didn't like talking about himself. With all the listening the blond did, Craig would be surprised if telling people about how he really felt _didn't _feel backwards and awkward.

Despite his concern for Kenny, Craig looked back at the screen. Stan and Butters had the controllers, and the champagne haired boy didn't seem to be doing so well. On the couch, Butters was moving from side to side, as if wrenching his body back and forth would help him beat the raven haired male. Stan was sitting calmly, the only thing moving being his hands and occasionally his lower arms. He was leaning his head back on the couch and to his side, so he was only slightly resting on Kenny's arm behind him.

On the television, two characters were brawling. Well, at least, one was. The one Craig presumed to be Butters' character was a girl wearing a jacket with a hood pulled up, cat ears sewn onto the hood. Her sleeves had gigantic paws on the end, and a tail came out from the back of her hoodie. Each time Stan's character gave it a smack it made a noise resembling an objecting meow. The player that Stan was using held an overly large, rounded sword, his hair styled into long spikes. A red jacket with various belts and buckles crossed his chest, and he wore large, puffy black pants. It was less of a battle and more of just Stan using his character to mercilessly beat Butters'.

"Shit, Butters, grow a dick. The only reason you don't know how to play is because you've been sitting in your room and playing Hello Kitty Jewfest this whole time." Cartman called jeeringly at the light haired boy.

"Shut up, Cartman. Butters, do you know how to play this game?" asked Clyde, a little friendlier than Eric.

"W-well, no... I've never played a fightin' game like this one before." The baby blue eyed boy was mashing at the buttons randomly, hoping that one would work.

"That's not fair, we should at least teach Butters how to play. Butters, do you want me to teach me how to play once this round is over?" Token said, turning around to look at the frail boy behind him.

"That would be real nice."

"It's okay, Token, I'll do it."

"You mean, it's the least you can do after totally whipping his ass, right?" said Cartman, snorting like a pig.

"No, the least I can do for going up against him when he didn't even know how to play, fat ass. Move, Cartman, so Butters can sit next to me."

The brown haired male stood up, letting Butters slide over so his thigh was pressed up against Stan's, and sat back down on the edge of the couch.

"Okay, see this thing here?"

"Yeah?"

"Use it to move around. Press it like this to jump, and you can attack like this. If your opponent is really low in health, you can do a cool move like this," he said, demonstrating for the feminine blond while Butters' eyes remained on his quick fingers.

"What does this do?"

"...That's the pause button."

Stan continued pointing to buttons on the controller, letting Butters in on all the secrets of the game, all the best ways to fight, how to work combos, being sure not to leave out anything. Once Stan had explained every single button and demonstrated to Butters what each did, he let the bleach blond haired boy practice.

"Remember, the controls are the same for every character, it's just their moves and skills that are different. Think you got it?"

"Yeah... yeah, it's still a little funny, but I think I get it."

"Alright. Wanna try a real fight now?"

"Well, all right... I may not be too great though."

"That's okay." Stan went back to the character screen, confirming that they had chosen their players and moved on the stage selection screen, re-starting their battle.

"Okay, now remember, this button is for-" Stan was cut off when Butters' character lunged forward, stringing out combos and moving gracefully across the screen. "Well don't you learn fast." Craig turned his head, smiling at the feminine boy on the couch. Butters had his tongue poking out from his lips in concentration, his fingers still moving tentatively, but quickly over the controller.

Despite Butters' quick learning and good head start, Stan had the final move, winning the battle.

"Dang, Butters, that wasn't half bad."

"Seriously, that was cool, blondie."

"Dude, that was pretty awesome."

"You're still a fag."

"Shut up, Cartman," several of the boys said instinctively.

"Well, thanks, fellas! Who wants to play next?" Cartman raised his hand, and Kenny raised his next.

"Finally, a chance to beat up Cartman without getting in trouble," Kenny whispered victoriously under his breath.

"Screw you, Kenny."

The blond boy took no time choosing his character, selecting a busty woman with long, black hair and a revealing, skimpy outfit. Cartman laughed hollowly at him.

"A chick? God, Kenny, you're as bad as Butters."

"Whatever, man. First of all, she's hot, second of all, she kicks ass, and third, Butters almost beat Stan."

"You still chose a chick," the large boy snorted as he selected his player; a tall, muscled, red skinned man with spiked gray hair.

"Wow, he's almost as big as you are," Stan said when the fight started.

"Fuck you, Stan."

Kenny's character darted forward, jumping into the air and attacking Cartman's from above. Her skirts dancing about her as she moved around Cartman's bulky character, dodging all his attacks and dishing out combo upon combo.

"Stop it, Kenny, that's cheating." Cartman mashed buttons on his controller, trying to get a move in, but Kenny's fast moves just wouldn't let him. "Kenny, this isn't fair."

"Okay, Cartman, Butters had an excuse to not play well, but you definitely don't. You've had this game for like, a year now."

"This isn't fair, stop it, Kenny."

"Not a chance." The tall sapphire eyed boy finished off Cartman's character as quickly as the fight started, and they were sent back to the character choice screen.

"I want a do-over! Kenny was cheating!"

"You're just mad because he beat you with a chick, Cartman. Let someone else play," Kyle said from Eric's feet, turning his head to glance coldly up at the childish male, a soft smirk at his lips.

"Shut up, Jew. I'd bet you couldn't beat me, you girl."

"I'd bet I could beat you with my eyes closed, fatass."

"Prove it!"

"Kenny?" The boy in the orange jacket smirked and handed the red haired male the controller, leaning back into the couch. "Who should I use, guys?"

"The sexy doctor one again. She's cool."

"You're only saying that because you think she's hot, Clyde. Do the one chick in the puffy dress," Craig said.

"No, she's lame. Do the one tall guy with the blond hair," Kenny told Kyle.

"I don't have nothin' against the blond guy... but I think you should use the kitty girl!"

"Okay, Butters. Kitty girl it is," Kyle said, smiling as she chose the same character Butters did.

"Don't wreck him too bad, Kyle. You should at least let him get a punch in," Token said.

"Nah. He'd get cocky over even one hit. I think I'm just going to destroy him."

"Whatever you want."

It didn't take long before Kyle had Cartman's character to the brink of his health with hardly a scratch on his own. But of course, Cartman refused to accept the fact that Kyle was winning. "Hey, Kyle, stop it! You rigged the game, didn't you? You rigged it with your Jew magic, didn't you!"

"No, Cartman. I didn't 'rig it with my Jew magic', I promise. You just suck at this game."

"Hey!" Eric spouted more objections when Kyle gave one last slash to his character, winning the game.

"What was that about me not going to be able to win against you, Cartman? I could have sworn you said something along those lines just like, two minutes ago. ...No? I must have just been hearing things."

"...I hate you, Kyle. I hate you so much."

"I hate you too, Cartman. So, who wants to play next?"

"I will."

"Me too!"

Kyle handed the ebony haired boy the controller, and Cartman threw his at Clyde's head. Craig caught it before he could hit the brunette, handing Clyde the controller a little softer than Eric had.

"God, Cartman, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Fuck you, Kyle."

Craig and Clyde chose their characters, a friendly battle ensuing. They both were lazy with their fighting, leaning back into the knees of the boys behind them or occasionally even towards each other. The longer it went on, the more curious the boys around them got, until everyone but Craig and Clyde were sitting up straight and forward. Both only had a sliver of health left, stuck between making tentative attacks or blocking. If one or the other got one solid hit in, they would win the game.

"Hey, Craig."

"Yeah," he said halfheartedly, his response more of a statement than an answer.

The amber eyed boy leaned over, bumping Craig's nose with his own to get the black haired boy so their heads were facing each other. The next thing Craig, knew, their lips were pressed together, warm breath from Clyde's nose tickling his cheek. The ocean eyed boy's fingers faltered, stopping their movement over the white controller. The split second was long enough for Clyde, his fingers snapping forward, pressing a single button quickly. The blue eyed boy's character let out a shriek of distress and defeat, falling to the ground.

A silence fell over the the boys, the only sound in the room being the quiet music coming from the television before them. All eyes were on Clyde, Craig occasionally moving his head to look questioningly at the other males to his left. The amber eyed boy was smirking, body occasionally racking with quiet chuckles.

"Well, that was the faggiest, most desperate way to win a game I've ever seen, how about you guys?"

"Gonna have to agree with you, Cartman. For once."

"Hey, it worked," said Clyde, shrugging nonchalantly. As if he hadn't just jammed his lips onto his best friend's in order to beat him in a fighting game.

"That it did," Stan commented, eyes still fixed on Clyde.

"Alright, fags, get out of my house."

"What?"

"Yeah, I got shit to do. That's enough for one day. Time for me to stop dicking around and get shit done. Besides, I can't be around ass-pirates like Clyde and Craig for too long, or they'll rub off on me. So get out."

"You sound like Coach Adler, stop it."

"Whatever. Go home and do homework, cock masters."

"Since when did you turn into a vulgar version of my mother, Cartman?" Stan asked sarcastically, standing up and brushing himself off. The others followed suit, grabbing their coats from the corners and pulling on their gloves.

"T-thanks for havin' us, Eric! I sure had fun!" The rest muttered half-hearted thanks after Butters, waving goodbye to the large brunette and filing out the door. Cartman slammed the slab of wood shut once the last boy exited, the seven of them standing in silence. They went their separate ways after a long stretch of silence. Craig offered everyone a ride home, but everyone but Clyde declined, saying they would rather walk home in the cold than break laws, thank you very much.

It didn't take long for Craig to pull up his car in front of Clyde's house, parking and letting his hands slip off the wheel. Clyde had his fingers pressed against the vents, savoring the warm air coming out from them. The black haired male watched as his eyelids fluttered closed, hands flipping over like steak on a grill, trying to get his hands warm all around.

"Don't wanna go home," Clyde murmured sleepily.

"Little too late for that."

The other boy only sunk over, resting his head on the dashboard, eyes opening to look up at the sapphire eyed male. "Can I sleep over?" Craig objected, pointing out that the two of them had school the next day. "My parents won't mind." They stared at each other for several moments, Clyde wearing a hopeful look, Craig thinking over what to do. Sighing, he sat forward, pulling his bulky cellphone out of his back pocket. The pianist pressed the speed dial for his house, lifting the phone to his ear and shooting Clyde a look that was stuck between tired and mischievous. The brunette could hear the dial tone and the phone start to ring from where he was sitting.

"Your volume is up too loud," he muttered into the dashboard, coming out like he was talking through a mouth full of marshmallows because of his cheek pressed against the chilly plastic.

"I know. Hey, dad? Can Clyde spend the night?" What Clyde heard from the other end was a plethora of twangy, redneck syllables behind a wall of static, a cohesive word occurring now and then, but not often. "Yeah, I will... We'll take care of it... Yeah, we can right now. Okay, cool, thanks. We'll be there in a second... Yeah, bye. Bye." Craig snapped the scratched phone shut, lifting his body slightly to slide it back in his pocket. "Let's go get your shit."

A grin stretched over Clyde's face, nearly from ear to ear, as the two of them popped open the door. The amber eyed boy opened the unlocked door, letting Craig go in first and following in after him. Casually, they brushed the snow off their shoes, Clyde peeling off his gloves, Craig pulling off his hat, heading towards the stairs. They began climbing slowly, picking up their pace until they were taking two or three stairs at a time.

"I win!" cheered Clyde as he reached the top step just a split second before Craig.

"Fine, you win. Now come on, you need to pack."

"Sour puss," the brown haired boy muttered playfully as he cracked open his bedroom door and stepped inside. "Clothing, clothing," he said, opening the drawers on his dresser just inside the door, pulling out a graphic tee and a pair of jeans after flipping through several articles of clothing. He shut the drawer with his hip, slinging the clothes onto his bed and leaving the apparel inside the knicked and chipped furniture in a haphazard heap.

Craig turned and headed down the hall to the bathroom, wrenching open a drawer and grabbing Clyde's toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. He stepped back into the hallway, pulling open the hall closet and leaning down. As he began to grab a towel from a bottom shelf, Clyde called from his room.

"Don't need a towel!"

"No towel?"

"Not gonna shower. Showers are for girls and Butters."

"Wow, hypocrite," the black haired boy said, closing the closet with a foot and walking back into Clyde's room. He tossed the toothbrush and paste on Clyde's Red Racer print bedsheets, laughing quietly to himself. When they were eight it was the hot show in his group of friends, and it seemed like Clyde was too lazy to buy new bedsheets since then. Of course, that wasn't surprising if you knew Clyde Donovan at all; they boy hardly even had the willpower to roll out of his Red Racer bed in the mornings.

"Uhh, backpack is in your car, right?"

"Yeah, it's there."

The lanky male continued to shuffle through drawers and closets, looking for anything he may had missed. Craig watched as he walked across the carpet, stacking his clothes haphazardly on top of each other, grabbing his toothbrush and a couple text books and picking them up, balancing the messy pile on his hip. "I think that's the last of it."

"Don't you want a bag or something to put it all in?"

"What do you think I have a backpack for?"

"Gross, dude. You're going to take your dirty clothes with you to school?"

"Well... yeah. I don't see why not." Craig sighed and followed Clyde back down the stairs, the brunette going at a much faster pace than the relaxed boy behind him. Craig watched as he grabbed his gloves from a rack near the door, pulling them on quickly and bounding cheerfully out the door, leaving it open for Craig.

"Slow down!" The pianist was on the porch when he remembered his hat, leaning back into the doorway to grab it from off the floor and promptly shoving it back over his head.

* * *

**A/N:** I thought I would put this at the bottom just to save a little space at the beginning, I want to send out an extra special thank you to the few people who have read every chapter and given such sweet reviews, you guys really keep me motivated and going! Thank you so much for not abandoning this story along the way and telling me you like it... Without you, this story would probably be discontinued and tossed aside with so many of my others! I really can't thank you enough, but thank you!


	11. Headed for Disaster

**A/N: **Hello again! (As always, haha,) I'm sorry for forgetting to update last Sunday! I had forgotten that I had to write instead of just do proofreading this time around and decided to update today instead. This chapter will hold a few changes in the story, and maybe even how you see some of the characters... Someone does something that isn't too good! This chapter is a little on the shorter side, but I hope you like it anyway. Please read and enjoy, my friends~

* * *

"Craig, I don't get this one, either."

"Did you look at it?"

Clyde fell silent, bent over so he was hanging upside-down from Craig's bed, the hairs of his head nearly brushing the carpet. He stared at Craig's blue eyes blankly, his face void of any expression other than a dumb look. "Well... kinda."

"Try looking again. Look real hard for me," he responded, looking back down at the book set in his lap. One hand rested on the carpet below where he was sitting on the floor, the other fiddling with the corner of a slick page. A couple papers and a notebook sat around him, squiggly, Craig-like writing scratched over them. The room was quiet save for the occasional scratching of pencil on paper or the shuffling of fabric as the boys shifted around.

"_Craig_," the brunette whined again, drawing out the vowels and groaning, "I don't get it. This homework is way too hard for sophomores." The black haired boy sighed, setting his book to the side and moving so he sat next to the loud male. Clyde shifted so he was sitting upright and not hanging off the edge of the bed, the blood rushing away from his face. "This one," he said, pointing to a multiple choice question on the thin packet.

"Okay, look over here. It should be in this section." Craig pulled over Clyde's book so it was situated between their legs, flipping a few pages and pointing to a bold subtitle, leaning back to let the amber eyed male get a look. Clyde chewed on the eraser of his pencil as his eyes scanned over the dark text, stopping near the bottom of the page. He let out an enlightened sounding noise, reaching over to the packet and sloppily circling one of the choices. Clyde continued flipping the pages, stopping occasionally to write something down, cross out an option or mark an answer, biting the end of his pencil when he wasn't using it.

Twenty minutes had passed before he declared, "And that's the last of it!"

"Good job, Clyde."

"Aren't you gonna finish your homework?"

"Nah. Long term assignment, I'll do it some other time. So what do you want to do now?"

Clyde rocked from side to side on the mattress, bumping Craig's arm occasionally. He let out little humming noises to accompany his thinking, finally turning to the black haired running back and offering, "Video games?"

"Did that at Cartman's."

The brunette continued to rock, biting his lip and looking around the room as he thought. "Talk about girls?"

"Too early for that."

"Guys?"

"What?"

"Never mind. We could... find something to eat?"

"You can. I'm not too hungry yet."

"Ugh. Okay, um... We could... make out!"

"Funny, Clyde."

"No, I'm serious! I'm highly attracted to you, Craig. We should totally make out. That would be great. You have a totally rockin' bod, and I want it. All to myself. I'm sure Mr. Adler does too, but I won't let him have you." For a moment Craig was actually wondering if Clyde was serious. The playful smirk on his face said he was kidding, but his eyes said something completely different.

"Whatever, dude," he said, at loss for anything else to say. He reached behind Clyde, grabbing the pillow from the head of his bed and smacking Clyde playfully with it. "Maybe Cartman was right, maybe you are a total homo."

Clyde tried to talk through the pillow, his speech coming out muffled through the fluffy object. Finally, he grabbed it out of Craig's hands and threw it back at the tall male. "I am not a homo! And I can't believe you would agree with Cartman! Are you getting, like, sick or something?"

"No, not as far as I can tell. But you have been acting a little weird lately. As in not obsessing over how hot you think Bebe is for the past like, month. Admit it."

"Dude, I'm the same old me, nothing has changed."

_Right,_ Craig thought, _except for the fact that you seem totally uninterested in girls all of a sudden, and acting weirdly buddy-buddy towards me._

"Seriously though, you sure you're okay? You're acting extra spaced." A hot hand pressed to the side of Craig's face, Clyde leaning over to press their cheeks together.

"Dude!"

"What?"

"This is a prime example. The boob-crazed Clyde I used to know would have never done something like that. That would have been way too gay for you like, four weeks ago. Something's changed, dude."

"Whatever. Can we _not _talk about our feelings or how you think I'm changing? It makes me feel like a girl or like I'm going through puberty or something." Clyde sighed, falling back flat on Craig's bed. _Not changing,_ Craig thought, _changed. _The ebony haired boy fell back with Clyde, the amber eyed male turning and propping his head in his palm. The pianist could feel the eyes on him.

_What happened to you?_ Craig thought, _What happened to the crybaby, perverted, chick-loving loser I used to know? I don't think you'll ever admit it, Clyde, but you've changed, and I'm sure you know it as well as I do. You're hardly flirting with Bebe anymore, you don't crack the dirty jokes you always did anymore... You're a completely different person, and I'm not sure whether it's for better or for worse. _The blue eyed boy's heart knotted, his stomach sinking. He just wished he had the balls to say it out loud.

Craig turned on his side, finally looking back at Clyde. _I need to fix it. I need to find some way to bring the old Clyde back, or he'll never be the same again._ "Let's stay up all night."

"Huh?"

"Let's dig out my old Red Racer and fighting video games and play them. I'll find my dad's old Playboy magazines and we'll flip through them like we used to. And we can make a ton of popcorn and chips and drink all the soda in my fridge and wrestle and do all the other stupid stuff we used to. C'mon. It'll be awesome." Craig's heart felt tangled, hoping that just maybe Clyde would go for it. Maybe Craig could get him back to how he used to be, and pull him away from being a stranger.

Clyde stared at Craig for a second, eyes flicking back and forth across his features before he crawled over to the TV, pressing in the power button and waiting for the screen to flicker on. He looked back at Craig emotionlessly before letting a Cheshire grin stretch from ear to ear. "Let's do it."

* * *

Craig groaned, rolling over and rubbing his eyes. The menu screen for some action movie was displayed on the television, the volume down way low. After he had listened to the soft music and looping sequence a few times, he sat up, turning off the DVD player and falling lazily back onto the makeshift bed he and Clyde had made on the carpeted floor. Said boy to his right hadn't stirred with Craig's noisy movements, still snoring peacefully (or lazily) into his pillow. Craig had heard that people look more beautiful in their sleep, but Clyde sure didn't. He smiled with amusement at Clyde's mouth, which was hung wide open, his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth twitching occasionally. The brunette was sprawled sloppily on the ground, his shirt pulled up slightly and his hair riddled with cowlicks. _Typical Clyde._

_...Typical Clyde?_ Craig thought, blinking with a disbelieving look on his face, _Holy shit, maybe it did work._ The running back stood up, brushing himself off and glancing at his alarm clock. They couldn't have slept for more than an hour or two, but it was still earlier than when Craig usually got up for school. He sighed and figured he might as well get an early start on the day.

After a long, hot shower and changing into clean clothes, Craig returned to his room. He still had a towel over his head, using one hand to try to rub his thick hair dry. He was putting the last of his books and spirals into his bag when his alarm clock rang, startling both him and Clyde.

"Good morning," was the drowsy greeting the boy with the brown hair gave, rubbing one eye with his fist. Craig returned it, moving over to the still-ringing clock and silencing it.

"I'll be downstairs. Get ready, school starts in forty."

"Thanks, mom."

It was still dark outside when Craig got downstairs and threw his bag next to the door. Dark enough for him to have to turn on several lights to be able to see anything. Craig ambled into the kitchen, grabbing the bag of bread and throwing four pieces into the toaster. He slathered them with butter and jam once they were done, pulling out two plates from the cupboard and playing the two slabs of toasted bread on each.

Clyde came downstairs with a sleepy limp as the ocean eyed boy was setting the plates on the table.

"You're not taking a shower and you're going to school in your boxers?"

"I'm not-" Clyde started, looking down at his bare knees. "Oh." He retreated upstairs. When he had made his way down again, jeans were pulled over his legs and a wet comb had been taken to his hair, taming the brown mess. Craig had already finished his toast, about to fall asleep when a scratchy material smacked into his face. Craig all saw was his blue earflap cap when he opened his eyes before he lifted it from its resting place on his nose and instead jammed it over his head.

"Thanks, dude."

Clyde made a noise and snatched the toast off the plate, taking one in his mouth. A mumbled mesh of sound came form around the crust of the bread which Craig deciphered to be "Let's go." Clyde was chomping away at the warm bread and pulling his backpack higher up on his shoulder with his free hand. The black haired male followed him to the door, grabbing his bag once they got there and turning the chippy knob, pulling the door open for Clyde.

The two said nothing to each other on the way to school, solely for the reason that they were both beyond exhausted. Craig's eyes were hardly open during the drive, half-lidded on their way into the large building. The entire day felt like walking through water to him, everything happening in slow motion, a second feeling like it lasted ten times longer than it should. When Mr. Garrison asked him the answer to a math problem he responded with something that sounded like 'fish'. He wasn't called on for the rest of the day.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the day screeched over the intercom, doing nothing to help wake up the black haired male. Clyde walked over to his desk, jostling his shoulder when he saw that Craig's black eyelashes were kissing his cheekbones.

"Dude, I'm tired too, but wake the fuck up. We have football practice."

Craig responded with an uncharacteristically shrill whine, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder anyway. He guided the half-asleep male to the locker room, their arms looped together.

"Seriously, wake up, Coach Adler will be pissed if you go to practice like this."

"'S all your fault," he muttered, slowly pulling his jersey and pants onto his body. They were left in the empty, concrete walled room, the last ones out the heavy metal door.

"Good to see you, Donovan, Tucker. You two need to quit screwin' around and get yer asses out here faster, hear me?"

"Yes, coach."

"Go do laps with the others. For being late, you get an extra three. I'll tell you when you can come back."

Craig whined softly again, heading out onto the track with Clyde by his side. Their feet hit the pavement with little energy, propelling them forward slowly.

"You got cinder blocks strapped to yer feet, boys? Get a move on!"Coach Adler continued to give them inspiring compliments each time they passed him. Craig and Clyde had long since lost count of their laps when the pudgy man called them back, letting them exercise with the other boys. Clyde was right by the ocean eyed pianist the whole time, catching him when he was on the verge of sleep, continuing to casually jostle him to keep him awake. They managed to get it through practice and scrimmage without falling asleep too many times, successfully fooling their coach into thinking they were completely awake the whole time.

They were the first into the locker room, pulling off their uniforms and tossing them back into their lockers as usual, not bothering to wash them.

"Fuck!" Craig let out a string of expletives as the cold water soaked his head, immediately reaching for the knob on the shower, trying his best to find a warm setting. Of course, no matter what way he turned the dial the water was freezing cold, making him shiver from the second he turned on the water from the second he turned it off.

Maybe it was the cold water, or maybe it was just his high self-consciousness and terrible confidence, but he could have sworn the he felt eyes following down his body and back up again, just like the day before. Craig switched off the shower and wrapped the towel around himself as soon as he felt he was sufficiently clean, trying not to seem hurried or suspicious as he exited the slippery room.

Laying on the slick wooden bench between the rows of lockers, Craig was staring at the concrete floor beneath him, trying to memorize all the little bumps and pimples on the hard surface. He was already dressed in his regular clothes again, his backpack by his side, his hair still slightly damp. Around ten minutes had passed when Craig felt a sudden weight on his back and writhed underneath, trying to shake off whatever was on him, or at least move out from under it. The tall boy let out a noise like all the air had escaped from his lungs when he hit the gray floor, looking up to see Clyde sitting on the bench. The brunette was clutching his stomach, his face a nice shade of red from laughing.

"Dude, you should have seen yourself... That was hilarious," Clyde choked between laughs, trying his best to catch his breath. Even when he had stopped laughing his face kept the red color. Craig glared up at him from his spot on the scratchy concrete.

"Fuck you, dude."

"Hey, it was funny." Clyde extended a hand, pulling Craig up from where he was lying on the ground.

"I almost don't want to offer you a ride home." Of course, Craig had only said the comment to tease him, but the running back could have sworn he saw a flash of hurt or anxiety wash over Clyde's face for a split second, but it was gone before Craig had time to blink.  
"I don't need a ride home, don't sweat it. I'm just gonna walk."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I figured the exercise was good for me."

"Don't you want to get home to sleep though?"

"I can walk, it's really okay. But I wouldn't say no to a ride to school tomorrow."

"Alright then, shorty. You got it."

* * *

It wasn't until several days later that Craig could really tell that something was wrong. Clyde was over at the pianist's house again, sitting on the bed and refusing to make eye contact with Craig. His hands were planted on the sheets, the tips of his fingers occasionally curling the fabric under them. While his leaned-back stance should have looked relaxed and casual, the brunette seemed to be stiff and uncomfortable. From the moment Craig's friend walked in, he could tell that something was bothering the childish male. He hadn't moved from his spot by the door he had opened for Clyde, watching the fidgety boy with an almost hawk-like stare. Craig listened to the alarm clock on his nightstand, counting the quiet seconds as they passed, trying to read Clyde's expression. He was on one hundred and eighty-nine when Clyde swallowed, cleared his throat, and swallowed again. "Craig, will you... come sit with me, please?" He almost faltered when he heard Clyde say 'please', but started towards the bed anyway. "And shut the door." When he didn't say it again, Craig felt a little more comfortable.

Complying to Clyde's request, the ebony haired boy closed the door with his foot and took a spot on the bed, leaning slightly forward and trying to get Clyde to look at him. a handful of seconds passed until Craig gave up, leaning back and sitting straight and simply waiting for him to speak. It wasn't long until Clyde took a breath and said, "We're friends, right?"

Craig whipped his head to the side in surprise, shocked at Clyde's question. "That's... rhetorical, right?" He was even more surprised when Clyde shook his head of brown hair back and forth.

"Just answer it."

"Well... yeah, dude. We've been friends since like, preschool. Why do you even have to ask?"

Clyde flinched at the response he got, as if someone had pushed down sharply on his chest. Craig furrowed his dark eyebrows, trying to figure out where he was going with this. "So we're best friends, right?"

"Super best friends, you know that," Craig cut him off. Clyde continued like he hadn't said anything.

"And best friends don't hate each other for anything."

"Uh-huh..."

"And so you wouldn't hate me for anything, would you?"

"Clyde, you're kinda starting to worry me. What's wrong?"

"Please, just answer me."

Clyde's serious tone set off a warning signal in his head. Just when Craig thought "Dude, again with the 'please'? No, I won't hate you for anything. You're my super best friend, I couldn't hate you no matter what you did."

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Nothing. Now will you tell me what's bothering you?" Clyde's chocolate eyes flickered across Craig's face, studying it to an almost ridiculous extent. It was clear even to Craig that Clyde was searching him to make sure that he was being completely honest. "You can trust me, Clyde. I wouldn't lie to you, you know that."

"Cross your heart?" he asked, looking up at the black haired boy, his childish side starting to show through his seriousness. Craig did his best to resist the urge to smile.

"Cross my heart," he assured, making a show of raising his left hand and drawing a little 'x' below his collarbones.

"Okay." Clyde let out a little breath, trying to get back his nerves. Craig shifted a bit towards him to show that the brunette had his full attention, knowing that Clyde was about to tell him what had been on his mind. "Craig," he started, lifting his head to look up at the handsome running back, "What would you do if I said that I liked you?"

"...Wait, what?"

"I like you."

"...Wait... What?"

"You're gonna make me say it again? I-"

"No, I heard you, I just... What?"

"God, Craig, what don't you get? I like you. I don't want to be just 'super best friends'. I want to be something more. I want us to date."

"I... But you're... But you're Clyde! You're girl loving, boob crazy, totally straight super best friend Clyde! You're the straightest guy on the planet, how can you..."

"I dunno, dude! I just do."

"For how long?"

"A... while now."

A heavy silence fell over their heads, consisting of Craig burning a hole into what he could see of Clyde's face with his eyes, and Clyde looking at anything that wasn't Craig. The stone eyed male opened his mouth to say something, not exactly sure what that something would be, but he couldn't bring himself to even start to talk. He watched as Clyde's eyes filled with tears, the only thing that revealed his true emotions. The rest of his face remained stoic and still, like if he moved at all he would shatter. The only thing Craig could bring himself to do was to look away and place his hand on top of Clyde's. The pianist did his best to pretend not to notice when the tears spilled over and ran down the other's baby cheeks, but ended up squeezing his hand just a little tighter. Clyde began to choke down sobs. The tight pressure of Craig's hand over his was all he needed to know that Craig couldn't return his feelings.

* * *

The next day, Clyde acted as if nothing had happened. He slapped Craig's back playfully, made his usual dumb jokes, laughed when Craig joked back. But the light that had previously sparkled in his chocolaty eyes was completely gone, replaced with a dull and buffered shadow, like his eyes were made of fogged up glass. When he had left from Craig's house the night before, the dejected boy muttered something along the lines of, "And now I'll never be able to get over you."

It's not like Craig didn't understand... Well, actually, that's probably untrue. Craig had been through his fair share of crushes, requited or not, but just seeing the look on his best friend's face screamed at him that no, he didn't understand. After Clyde had gone home, the dark eyed male spent the remainder of his evening lying on his bed and just thinking. _How long has this been going on? How could I have been so insensitive? Why didn't I notice before? _The questions of their relationship, his actions, his ignorance turned into questions of how he could help Clyde. _How he could get the brunette to let him go. I can't bring myself to hurt him... I can't stay away from him, since I see him all the time at school and practice... There's no way he'll answer truthfully if I ask him if there's anything I can do for him... I don't think I'm brave enough to tell him he needs to get over me... I'm not even sure if I'm brave enough to start talking about it to him anyway... what in the world would I say? Where would I even start?_

It wasn't long before he got an answer.

He had stayed a bit over time for football practice to work with Coach Adler, late enough for the sun to be setting. Even Craig noticed how pretty it was, what he could see of the sky was stained with watercolor reds and pinks and oranges, like someone had tipped their paint pallet upside down over it. However, the majority of the warm colored spill was plastered over with white, the heavy snow clouds above dumping everything they had, the cold flakes coming down to their final resting place on Craig's long eyelashes, the crown on his head, or brushing and sticking down his shoulders. He simply stood there until he lost track of time, watching as the sky gradually became redder and darker, casting a dark light under the clouds and a frayed glow over them. He sighed, not noticing when someone came up behind him, footsteps crunching almost silently on the ground.

"Craig..."

It took him a minute to register that someone had called his name, eventually his eyes widening a little and turning around.

"Oh, Stan... Sorry, I was... The sky looks really nice, doesn't it?"

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It really does," Stan replied. However, his piercing blue eyes never left Craig. "Can I talk to you?"

"You are. What is it? If it's about our math homework, don't even ask me, I didn't get it either."

"No, it's not our math homework," Stan stopped halfway through his sentence to laugh. "It's just- we're pretty good friends, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I could say so." And it was true, as the years went by, Stan and Craig had become better and better friends. Eventually, their two groups of friends merged into one. _Weird, I'm getting deja vu._

"Okay. Well, it's... Craig, listen. I like you."

The ebony haired boy was taken off-guard, jumping back a little as if he had reached the high point in a horror film. After the shock quickly passed over him, he bit his tongue to resist the urge to groan. _Again?_ And then, he had an idea. "You mean in a friend way, right?"

"Not- not really." Maybe it was the light, but Stan's face seemed to have taken on a light flush.

"So you're saying you want to... you want us to date?"

"W-well," Stan started, clearly taken aback. "I mean, yes, I do."

The cogs were turning in Craig's head at an almost inhuman speed. _If I do this,_ he thought, _I'll have a good reason to not be able to return Clyde's feelings. He'll have to move on, there's no way that he can continue to like me after this. Now I'll be able to be around him and not have things be difficult or awkward. This will fix things. _"Well," _This will fix everything. _"If you ever wanna go out sometime..." It has to.

"Are you... are you serious?"

"Sure. Definitely. We should date. I want us to date."

_ This has to fix everything._

* * *

**A/N:** So how much of this did you see coming? I tried not to make a whole lot of this super obvious to what was going to happen, but it didn't work too well, haha! I tried to make the part where Stan was going to ask him out too obvious in the very beginning, but I thought I would describe the sunset and the snow like Stan did to Kyle back in the Style chapters. I also thought it was kinda obvious that Clyde was going to confess to Craig, and even that he liked him... but oh, well. Did Craig's actions change your opinion of him? In all honesty, my opinion is that he isn't that bad a guy. I'm trying to make it seem like he doesn't know that what he did is going to hurt Clyde, but I'm not completely sure how well I conveyed that. Also, I was testing the different emotions I was using here, because I'm using this story to try out some new things... I was going to make someone angry to try that out, but I forgot to! I almost never get angry, so it just slipped my mind, haha.

Anyway, onto more important things, I'm a little sad to say that the next chapter of this will most likely be the very last. I'm going to wrap everything up, clarify things a little more, and all together just finish this thing up! I want to thank the people who have stayed with me through the whole thing especially, I love it when you tell me you read it and you liked it, and especially when you guys asked questions. I've had so much fun with this, and I hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you (a little early) for a spectacular three months!


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